beans spilled

I came to you as a friend in need. You came to my aid fast enough. I asked you to keep to youself. 

And then. for whatever reason you have, you turned around and told everyone. In jest. As if you were waiting for me to fall and laugh about it. 

It wasn't funny. When your friend asks you to keep a secret, you either say you don't want to know, or you keep the secret so sacred you die with it. Because that's how I would have done if it were you asking me to keep something to myself.

It isn't funny. Maybe everyone else is laughing, but I am not. I fail to see the humor in the the suffering of one person, no matter how pathetic or petty it seems to you. It was serious enough suffering for me to ask you to keep the knowledge of it to yourself. And you just could not do it, could you?

My error is trusting you, but you can count on me to keep your secrets, no matter how petty or pathetic they are to me. Not because you are my friend, nor because I trust you as a person.

It is because, at some point, you trusted me. And more than losing a friend, I can't stand losing integrity. My own.

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