So there, the story of how Desperate Housewives came about, if you didn't already know. Interesting premise; I kinda loved the first season too. But when you think about it, really, isn't real life like a great big neverending season of life on Wisteria Lane anyway?
All of us have secrets we keep, things we hide behind a mask of "I'm good!" to a "How are you?", even from our closest friends sometimes. Because people don't really care anyway; everybody's already got enough problems of their own, thanks. Because the truth would let people see beyond the face you put on for polite company, and it wouldn't be a pretty sight. Because it's just easier to live life pretending that everything is gonna turn out just fine.
It's not hard to catch the signs of the emo secrets around; it's the emo tweets late in the night, or sometimes blog posts like this one. But I swear I'm not like this all the time, really. Most of the time I'm still the one you equate with laughing too hysterically, WTF jokes and inappropriate poking of boobs... okay the last one's applicable for Pinky and Kadazan only. Midnights just have a way of bringing out the emo in everybody.