The time we fought about ducks I asked him once, what would you do if you woke up and found a magic talking duck Would you feel crazy? Would you tell anyone? He said he wouldn't When he saw I was hurt he said maybe when the time was right And that innocuous chat turned into a poop storm I'd feel crazy unless he saw the duck too, I wouldn't believe it unless he did, I'd tell him immediately The duck turned into a major secret from his past which he eventually told me after I asked why I wasn't good enough to know and abandoned all hope I felt like he was telling me to appease me And now another 'insignificant' secret he shares with his close friend has made an appearance He was evasive and I felt like I was being insane (which he didn't do much to stop) until he finally told me there was a secret after denying being evasive It's insignificant he says I'm prepared to believe it is But what hurts is that he was willing to let me believe I was imagining things instead of admitting it exists I dont have any secrets from him At all And I never felt bad about that Now I do Now I feel idealistic and overbearing And I feel very alone This diary is the only thing I've kept from him -- and not even this so much, I've read bits of it before I don't want to anymore This is my duck And for the first time I'm not sure we're going to make it It breaks my heart |