An Essay On Secrecy Devin Pavlischak/ February 12th, 2017 ©

Our world was born in defiant secrets. You knew from the start that what was against you and what was there to help you was a plot. Now and then, you got answers, here and there, there were clues. You’d give anything to know, especially when on the verge of a new discovery that changes everything. We keep secret the best of ourselves out of fear and judgment, until our life becomes the eager plot of villainy and wicked minds with the intent to harm, abuse, and divulge information that could only bring more suffering. We are therefore the ending results of choices made by the ethics of people we may never meet and or people we know all too well. It is a selfish behavior and a need to betterment ones survival. Our story begins in a fashionable way, we are children born into a world we know nothing about, we’re small, and to some we are insignificant. Yet we already hold secrets, our daily life is a written omniscience of cause and effect between relations and bonds. For this matter, we are no closer to learning more than what we already hold about our own secret ideas and thoughts, in other words, what we hold dear because without it, we would no longer have something to offer to the whole of civilization.
Every human being is born with the expectation that they will be cared for as they age and once they know that they have the necessary skills to care for themselves and others, they will do such. Blindly, and without further regard to all past events, human beings blindly trust and keep close to those they trust, until being given harmful reasoning and the ability to comprehend the harm that is being done to them. Most of us will live in a time when the road, fraught with despair and loneliness, leads us to a place we belong, and we know it because the secrets and the plots fall away, and then the past falls away. When we find ourselves being taunted by a relentless purpose that is not our own, I know we feel damaged, broken, cracked, and brutalized, and our legs a little too unsteady to stand. Our own purpose, whether we are innocent of heart, or victim to being the villain, with a cunning mind, or vice versa, secrets are a commodity. We learn about other people, we learn facts and we either take or withhold those facts to harm or help others. We cannot expect others to do what is justifiable with secrets, we may only hope that they may do what does not cause harm, but instead helps humanity as a whole.
To protect a secret, often the lie becomes bigger than the secret itself, protecting the liar and ultimately harboring resentment and anger when the lie breaks. People lie when they’re plotting, small plots in our story when we have someone who is a friend or a spouse, someone who shares our life, plots with self-interest.


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