If you gathered everyone I have ever known and posed the question what do you know about me, the answers would vary from right on the money to absurd. People will give divergent inconsistent ideals on who I am, and they are all right, yet all wrong. Those who really know me... Well still really don't know me. I keep so very much secret and hidden. The attention is always placed on what I want people to know. The exterior I present is confident, hopefully intelligent, cultured, refined, and just a bit elitist. However, deep down I have a secret heart. One that I never expose to anyone. No one has any inkling of its existence, and that is just how I like it. My secret heart is for me alone. I store all my hopes, dreams, and archives of past affairs. I know longing for certain things is outrageous and absolutely never going to come to fruition. My secret heart reminds me of that special dress you can't fit into anymore but you haven't the heart to get rid of. So you keep it in the back of your closet and every now and then pull it out and dance in front of the mirror with it pressed against your flesh. You invoke all sorts of fanciful memories, inhale pure the scent of pure joy. Just as feelings of regret creep up, you replace the dress back into the recesses of your closet. When I am alone, I retrieve my secret heart, rummage through the contents like one would do a hope chest. Stored in my secret heart is the love I have for my soul mate but the heartache that he doesn't love me anymore. There are pictures of my size 2 body which shall only be achieved if I conveniently catch malaria, ding fever, swine flu, and alcohol poisoning all at the same time. It has snippets of my childhood and regrets of times when I choose to be with my friends rather than my family. There are also many things I wish I had told my Dad before he died. Some regrets, some triumphs, and plenty of what if's looming in a perpetual state of purgatory. It contains names of children I shall never have and the capricious joy I experienced in my early 20's. However, just like that special dress, when sorrow starts to tiptoe towards me, I expeditiously put my secret heart back where it belongs. In the recesses of my spirit, to be enjoyed another day.

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