from the bottom of my empty heart

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She is wretched, and she doesn't know it.

She glides through her day, oblivious to and unaware of the looks everyone gives her; the whispers. The rumors talking about her behind her back, about what she's done.

She smiles, and she doesn't know.

You've been watching her. You know what time she wakes up, when she eats dinner, when she plays with her cats. You know how long it takes her to get out of bed, and what her comfort movie is.

But you also know her secret.

Everyone has secrets. They can be dark and haunting, following behind you at all times. They can be lightweight, like the meager confession to eating the last piece of dessert. Usually, secrets carry a heavy load on a person's back. They cause remorse and guilt, and sometimes it take a while for that person to process the secret, or to get over telling it. Sometimes secrets ruin relationships. Sometimes they mend relationships. Secrets are viral.

Except in some instances, the keeper doesn't even even know they're carrying a secret.

April is like that. She doesn't have a clue what the world expects her to guard so carefully. But she walks on without complaining, even when she does notice the strange, fleeting glances and hushed voices.

She briefly thinks about the blank space in her memories without acknowledging it. It is the result of her secret, but she doesn't know that. Perhaps she never will

Maybe, in a way, we are all like April. Not noticing our innermost secrets; paying a too much attention to the most obvious signs we become oblivious.

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