They look at me as if they know my secrets. Some more than others, but definitely more some than other. And we all know, secrets spread like wild fire.
She greets me with a slightly different tone. There is a hint of what sounds like condescension, but I know it's just shame. My secret shames her. I can tell because her cheeks turn pink and she looks at me with a sideways glance.
Another someone looks at me as if they were trying not to giggle. But as soon as she greets me, an incredible smile spreads across her face.
I'm not sure how to react. Do I bring it up, laugh it off and try to defend myself. Or do I plead ignorant and pretend I don't have secrets - especially not this one.
She wasn't going to tell me she told my secret. But I'm glad she told me. At least now I know why they look at me differently, why they turn red and try not to laugh in my presence. Why they ask certain questions and steer clear of others.
I can hear them in my head when I'm not around. "Tracy? Our Tracy? No! I can't believe it."
It's met with both skepticism and disappointment.
I can hear her voice telling the story. She tackles the skeptic comments with such gusto and flair that I can hear them laughing along with her. Her stories are always so out there that everyone listens eagerly. The damage is done.
And I wonder, why me? Why did she have to tell my story. If nothing else, could she not have replaced me with another one of her friends, or told the story as the friend of a friend? It's too late now. It's told. My secret is out there.
So for now, I think I'm just going to smile pretty -- and watch my back.
She greets me with a slightly different tone. There is a hint of what sounds like condescension, but I know it's just shame. My secret shames her. I can tell because her cheeks turn pink and she looks at me with a sideways glance.
Another someone looks at me as if they were trying not to giggle. But as soon as she greets me, an incredible smile spreads across her face.
I'm not sure how to react. Do I bring it up, laugh it off and try to defend myself. Or do I plead ignorant and pretend I don't have secrets - especially not this one.
She wasn't going to tell me she told my secret. But I'm glad she told me. At least now I know why they look at me differently, why they turn red and try not to laugh in my presence. Why they ask certain questions and steer clear of others.
I can hear them in my head when I'm not around. "Tracy? Our Tracy? No! I can't believe it."
It's met with both skepticism and disappointment.
I can hear her voice telling the story. She tackles the skeptic comments with such gusto and flair that I can hear them laughing along with her. Her stories are always so out there that everyone listens eagerly. The damage is done.
And I wonder, why me? Why did she have to tell my story. If nothing else, could she not have replaced me with another one of her friends, or told the story as the friend of a friend? It's too late now. It's told. My secret is out there.
So for now, I think I'm just going to smile pretty -- and watch my back.
