The open secret

“Why haven’t you told us much about him?” Said my pencil, looking at the paper and the pen next to it.

“All you guys do is taking things out of control,” I replied.

“What do you mean? Are you saying that we bother you? Excuse me, young lady, we are always the ones helping you out.” Said my pen, indignant.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” I said, apologetic.
“What did you mean then, my child?” Said my calm and warm paper.

“If I start writing about it... I believe it will overflow, I won’t be available to contain it. It will be too real, which implies it being too intense as that’s the only way things can be when it comes to the person I am” I answered, ashamed now.

“But you talk to him, and it doesn’t seem to be a secret. In any case, you are not the best at “hiding it.”” My pen insisted and I laughed at her lack of delicacy. I knew she was just curious about the details of my feelings, like an old gossiper; it didn’t really bother me though, I was used to her ways.

“Maybe. But writing about it won’t do things any easier for me.” I replied.
“Easy how? What do you mean?” She asked, not able to control her curiosity.

“No wonder why she doesn’t tell us about him.” My pencil replied and I laughed even harder, weren’t they the whole show? I just had to add the music and bring some clowns and ballon, the sitcom was on. But my pen couldn’t care less about such comment apparently because she didn’t even look back at him and stared at me intensely waiting for an answer.

“Oh good Lord! Seriously? I just said I didn’t want to talk about it.” I continue, noticing that I was already doing it and she wouldn’t let this go anymore.

“Well, you’re already doing it, honey. Also, you sure want to talk about him, don’t you? Come on, we are your friends, we know you. Let it out, girl.” She encouraged me.

“What do you want to know?” I asked, hoping that I will cut it short like this.

“How is him?” She asked, smiling and getting all excited.
“Physically or..?” I couldn’t finish my question because she replied first.

“In all ways possible. Describe him.” She said sitting down right in front of me.

“He is... the flowers, the steadiness and the thunder and the lightning bolt of a slightly rainy day,” I answered embarrassed while thinking whether I was saying enough to explain his vastness or not. Of course, it didn’t matter whatever I would say, nothing would seem enough to me.

“Why a slightly rainy day?” My pencil asked and my pen nodded.

“Because I don’t believe we are sunny days.” I tried to explain.

“You both could always make a rainbow happen then!” My pen said, excited and I smiled.

“That’s enough of meddling in her private life.” My paper said.

“As if she had a private life.” My pen answered and I found it hilarious, I agreed with her, I just couldn’t process how she was able to be so rude.

“I guess she will tell us about him whenever she is ready. After all, she did at the beginning.” My paper said and I opened my eyes widely because I thought they didn’t remember and that was why they were asking. My pen jumped on him.

“How dare you to remind her! How are you expecting us to get more information like this!?” My pen said, worried.

“Have I fallen in a trap of my own writing tools?” I said, with a dramatic tone, pretending to be affected.

“We didn’t mean to do anything bad...” My pencil replied and I got moved because of his innocence.

“I know. I am not saying talking about him is anything bad. He is precious in every way possible.” I confessed to them.

“Are you just afraid to lose him too then? Is that what you mean?” My pen asked and I got a bit surprised. My paper, my pencil, my eraser, my books and everything in my room looked at her in distress. “What!?” She said, annoyed.

“I think it is time for me to go to bed,” I said, smiling and left the room. 
Maybe if I don’t say much, maybe if I save my words, maybe if I keep my open secret, maybe if I hide my feelings, maybe if I town down my heart, maybe... just maybe, he won’t be taken away from me.