Last weekend I went to a play
that was all about family secrets.
The play was well acted but depressing since the family secret involved
teenaged prostitution. In the
lobby of the theater, there was a kiosk set up where the patrons could reveal their
own secrets.
"What are you hiding?" |
The 4-sided kiosk was covered
with Post-It notes on which people had written all kinds of secrets. Some were silly (“I ate the last piece
of cake”), some were deep (“I threw my engagement ring away and told my fiancĂ©
that I lost it”) and some were disturbing (“My sister was raped by a family
member”). As I walked around the
kiosk reading the notes, I heard people commenting that they were analyzing the
handwriting. A few people thought
that many of the notes were written by the same hand. I choose to believe that each note was left by a separate
individual who felt just a little bit lighter, a little bit happier, after
leaving a secret behind.
I can’t tell you what my secret
is, but I can tell you what I wrote on the Post-It note that I left
behind. “So am I.”
- christina