Can You Keep a Secret?

One : Every Body Lies
You can't trust what anyone says to you. No matter what, there is a hidden, ulterior motive. People will lie to you for many reasons - selfish reasons. Whether it be to save their own skin, to save your own skin, or simply for their own pleasure - People. Always. Lie. Therefore, no one is trust worthy. You can't even trust yourself... because no matter, you'll always lie to yourself. You'll make up excuses. You'll make up reasons. You'll make up imagined situations just so you can bear the burden of a new day.

That's why I left.

I couldn't stand being at a place where I was unhappy. I couldn't continually lie to myself. I couldn't keep telling myself that everything was going to be alright... because the truth was and is, that it isn't. I needed to stop fooling myself believing an impossible dream. Isn't that the very definition of a dream? The imagined impossibility? No? Well, it should be.

When I went to Harvard, I went with a broken heart - a very burdened heart... but I still had hope. I still had a future. I'd cradle my little bump for days and smile... knowing there was still a better tomorrow. When I left Harvard, I left with a more broken heart - an even more burdened heart.

Everytime I close my eyes, I picture what could have been. Everytime I close my eyes to sleep, I can't help but to laugh. Laugh at how pathetic I am. That's when the tears roll and breathing becomes that much harder. I weeze, I cough, I spasm. I die a little more inside.

And the world can't help but to observe me. Dissect me and every little thing I do - and don't do - until there's nothing left for me. There's no secrets. All this to satisfy their insatiable thirst for knowledge. They make things up, make my life dfficult.

Will I ever love again? I don't know. I don't think loving is enough. There's so much more to love that you and I don't underdstand.

I came to L.A. not because the tabloids wanted me to or because I had suddenly become famous for creating a love triangle that included two very famous boys. I didn't move to L.A. to be closer to my child's father or to be the next trend setter. I moved to L.A. for me.

-

"Hey Ryan,"

"What Brendon?"

"Now that our tour is over, we get to go home, right?" asked Brendon with puppy dog eyes.

Ryan rolled his eyes and strummed his acoustic guitar, "Yeah."

Brendon made a face at Ryan's unenthusiatic response and reglued his eyes to his lap top. After a seven month tour, Panic was ready to return home to their families. Their last show had been in Arizona so the ride hom was expected to be relatively short.

"Hmm..." Brendon murmured to himself as he engrossed himself in an online article he had stumbled upon. His eyes quickly darted to Ryan then returned to the article.

...seen with her child, club hopping in L.A. She appeared to be drunk and was seen getting into a cab with an unknown male. Several calls have been made to Grant's apartment in Santa Monica to inquiry about her child. Grant fans have been asking for the first glimpse of Mini-Grant.

"She has fans?" Brendon asked outloud to himself.

"Who has fans?" Ryan asked as he stood up to walk over to Brendon's laptop.

"Uh!" Brendon quickly pressed the link at the top of the page which led to a picture of Katy Perry. "Katy Perry!"

"Katy Perry?" Ryan asked confused.

"Yeah, uh, who listens to her anyway?" Brendon asked with a nervous laugh.

"Brendon, you bought her CD just a few days ago. You asked me to pay for you," Ryan replied with a frown on his face.

Brendon laughed again and closed his lap top. "I know, Ryan. I was just kidding around. I was talking about Katy Perry's kid."

Ryan frowned, "She doesn't have a kid."

Brendon laughed, "That's what she wanted us to believe."

"Brendon, you're crazy. Don't wake me up unless we've arrived at home. Got it?"

"Sure thing Mister."