All the Things You Never Knew

It was your favorite thing to say. “We know everything about each other. Not just the good things, but even the bad ones. We have no secrets.” And the way your eyes lit up when you said it, how your arm would curl around my shoulders and squeeze me against you… I couldn’t say anything. I promised myself that I would when we were alone, but the moment always seemed wrong and eventually the fact that I still had secrets became a secret itself.

It turns out I wasn’t the only one.

I never told you about the crying or the cutting or the nights I spent awake staring at the bottle of pills. I was terrified it would be too much for you to handle, so I didn’t mention the time I ran away, or the first time I ended up in the hospital. I locked the memories up in a box inside my head with “For Tom, to open later” written on the outside.

And you, in turn, never told me about the cancer, fearing it would be too much for me to handle. Well, you were right. I can’t handle the sympathetic looks I get from people now, the gentle “how are you doing?”s and hands on my back. I can’t handle not hearing you say goodnight in my ear from three blocks away. I can’t handle not having you.

So tonight, I won’t just cry. I’ll sob and scream and no one will be home to hear me. Tonight, I won’t just cut. I’ll slice smiles into my wrists because I can’t force one onto my face. And tonight, I won’t just stare, because no matter how hard I want it I know that I won’t see you tomorrow, and you won’t put your arm around me and say we have no secrets.

You thought I couldn’t handle knowing you would be gone. You were wrong. I can’t handle knowing that I have to do this act called life without you. I couldn’t handle it before I met you and I certainly can’t handle it now.

I’ll see you soon, Tom.