Skeletons in the Closet
My thirteen year-old self. Trying to hang with the cool kids.
by Trisha Leone
My ancestors have a few skeletons in the closet. At least that’s what my mom says. She’s been tracking down our family history for several years now and almost every day she discovers something new—a horse thief, gamblers, drunks, men and women who had affairs, and there are others—secrets and black sheep we don’t talk about. A new second cousin just showed up, the results of a passionate moment between two people long ago—a moment long forgotten by one, but never forgotten by the other. Time has a way of digging the past back up, one way or another.
I’ll admit, I have a few skeletons of my own. My skeletons, the ones I’ve locked up in a tiny closet in the back of my mind, like to pick the lock every now and then and have a little fun at my expense. They aren’t quiet about it either, their bones start rattling, causing a disturbance in my peaceful existence where everything looks good and life is picture-perfect—talk about party crashers.
They laugh, tell jokes about the time I had too much to drink at a high school party in the woods and made a complete fool of myself in front of the cool upperclassmen. One of the skeletons parades around the room wearing a ring made out of a horseshoe nail, acting like it’s a diamond. It’s a ring I stole when I was 13, but here it is again. They can go on for hours raking their bony fingers through my past. I used to try to slam the door shut and cover my ears. But now when I hear them coming I grab a few extra chairs and set the table, after all, they’re family. They’re what makes me human. Those skeletons are my bones. They’re my flesh and blood. The no-so-pretty parts of my past. The things I wouldn’t put on Facebook. The times I lied, cheated, and stole, trying to fit-in or get an edge. The things I did to be accepted or gain approval. They aren’t moments that I’m proud of, but they’re part of my story. Choices that I made all by myself. It’s too late for me to go back and fix my past. It was too late, the moment I made the decisions. I always wanted to be perfect, but I’m not—and I have a few skeletons who would love to tell you all about it.
Song Lyrics
Skeletons in the Closet
I stole a ring made out of a horseshoe nail
Slipped it in my pocket and swore I’d never tell
I snuck out the window in the middle of the night
Met a boy who was waiting out in the moonlight
You’d never know by looking at me
That I have a few secrets way down deep
You won’t see them on my Facebook page
Where my life is picture-perfect
CHORUS
But I’ve got skeletons in my closet
and they’ve picked the lock again
laughing and having a good time all at my expense
They make enough noise to raise the dead
Rattle their bones in my aching head
They parade my sins around the room and tell it just like it was
Yeah, I’ve made a few mistakes along the way
Those old skeletons sure have a lot to say
They remember every lie I told
Even the one about the window I broke
And the times I drank too much and got sick
And said things I wish I could forget
I’d love to change some things back then
But it’s too late now to make amends
Oh I’m so far from perfect
And I’ve got skeletons to prove it.
