A/N: Hi. I'm not really as new to FictionPress as my profile suggests I am, I just kinda never bothered with making an account, because I spent more of my hours at FanFiction. But I finally decided to at the beginning of the summer when I wanted to follow a story or two for the first time and I needed an outlet for poems and these things that you're obviously [hopefully] about to read. So I really hope this non-fiction/fiction piece catches your interest.

This particular piece is a vignette of a bunch of other stories that revolve around the same subject. If you eventually read more of my works, this subject will pop up here and there. One day, I'll probably write a story on the 'best friend' in this story as well, and I'll certainly let you know in that stories author's note as well. This is the first of many descriptive, telling, and awfully secretive one-shots on the stories of my life. My life with more secrets than just this one.

De la Vrai Moi: This 'secret' is personal. This story is me.

// An Untitled Mess of Things \\

Shuffling down marble steps, an olive green bag swung across my shoulders, I looked to my left and she was there. Smiling and laughing with me was my best friend. She could be my polar opposite and sometimes, strangely enough, this girl was my identical twin. We exchanged secrets like there was no tomorrow and sometimes even shared them. We were loud, girly, and oh-so fabulous as we liked to think, and no one could take that from us. But like most 'oh-so' fabulous girls we had secrets. And like the heels that clanked on the wood-floors, if those secrets were let out it would be sharp and painful; at least that's what I thought.

Bright blues eyes were staring back at each other, they were speaking to each other. Letting the other know how completely they were there for the other. No matter what the cost was. I always felt calm and at home around her, like nothing could penetrate this bond we had together, a link that stood as solid as my Tiffany's chain, it was personal and it would always have more meaning behind that cold exterior. We had both put up two totally different walls, but those walls were better described as a mirror into our totally polar decisions.

She had let it slip. Her secret was out for everyone to know. And she wanted it that way. I didn't understand, why would you want people to know? It was too personal, too easy for people to penetrate your wall. That solid brick wall I had built up, it was not going to come down for anyone, not unless they could break it apart piece by piece. And that's what she had done, that's how she had gotten to me. But no one else was supposed to get inside without hard work, and she had just handed her secret out, like it was okay. Like I shouldn't be ashamed of what I had done.

She obviously wasn't ashamed. She sucked up the attention. And I couldn't find myself to care. That's what she wanted. But I could never want that. I wanted to be brave like she was. But I wasn't brave, I hid behind mirrors and bricks, Diane von Furstenberg dresses and Tory Burch heals. Material goods and a fierce glare were all that I wanted people to see. People weren't supposed to know you just by looking at you; they needed to work for your affection and trust. Yet, I wanted to be brave, just like she was. But I didn't want those sympathetic glances. I didn't want to be pitied, just like she was. I was quite content at being the 'best friend.' I dealt with the smiles and the 'you are such a great friend' compliments. That's what I could do for her, that's all I could do for me. So I let her take the pity and the attention. She could have it, I did not want it. I wasn't even ready to have it yet. Dealing with it was simply not an option. I was secure in my little fantasy world, where I could hide contently beneath my closet and pretend like no one would ever realize that those bricks were mirrors, and that my closet was really just a mess. Yes, it was quite a mess. A mess of secrets and 'little white lies,' to keep the insecurities out. It was a mess of things really, an untitled mess of things.

// La Fin \\

A/N: I hope you enjoyed and I hope you come back for more. I'd love for you to review and leave a comment. I don't mind flames, in fact whatever you have to say, let it out in a review. I want to hear it. I have no reviewers to thank right now, so this is short and sweet.

So please help that fabulous green button right below us and help him not stay a pressing virgin. Seriously though, press the damn thing, he's getting lonely without you.

As per nomale, je t'aime [on FP it's all French to me, no more hearting you, desolée].