There are people I wish I didn’t lay myself bared, open, and vulnerable. People I wish I didn’t share my innermost thoughts, musings, and feelings. People I regret sharing myself. Friends and lovers alike. I feel like the few times I’ve finally trusted someone, are the times that I’ve trusted the wrong person. It’s like the universe telling me, “darling, when will you learn? This world is full of landmines and fucked up people disguised as your friends and lovers, and they will keep on hurting you if you will not learn how to shut up your damn heart.”
And what’s funny is I always thought you belong to those kind of people, but in the end, you’re the only one that stays, and you’re the only one that I didn’t regret sharing myself. Or maybe I’m wrong again. In any case, sweetheart, please don’t turn up like them.
// excerpt from a book i’ll never write #22