Forming any sort of emotional attachments has never been my cup of tea. And I do mean never. Somehow, they always seem to end in tears, hurt and pain. Always. It’s not something I can admit easily, rather quite the opposite. It is a sorry condition to be in, quite pathetic actually, and its a veritable hit to my ego to admit it. So as an act of rebelliousness?...arrogance?...or simply self-preservation, I shy away from any sort of emotional attachments. It’s automatic. The moment someone even tries to become close, warning bells go off in my head. And then I end up feeling guilty over not being the kind of person they want me to be.
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I had a friend. Yes, ‘had’ one. He was...amazing! He was someone who would call you, just to make you laugh, would know without you saying a word when you were upset, would guess when silent tears started rolling down your cheeks, ask you your favourite colour and remember it for a lifetime and watch out for you, no matter where you go. He was...everything a girl could ask for and more. And no matter how much he tried, I kept pushing him away, build these walls around my heart, impenetrable and high, that no one could ever or would ever bother taking the effort to jump over. It’s not remorse over losing a prospective admirer, but rather regret over losing a true friend. I suppose that’s all one is left with in the end...Regrets! It’s a heavy burden to carry over, knowing that you are capable of destroying any meaningful relation you could ever have. I have hope though, that these walls still have cracks in them, cracks which I can occasionally get glimpses of when I get hurt, hurt by an action or a word, proof that there is still a beating heart capable of feeling emotions that have been repressed for years. Sometime during these epiphanic revelations, I finally realize something. I realize that out there in the big bad world, I stand completely alone, and that...that is what scares me the most.