I’m not an easy person to get close to.
I’m normally polite, but I prefer to keep the majority of people at arm’s length. I could love the hell out of you and still not allow a close friendship to blossom. There are many reasons why.
I’ll just be as transparent as a sheet of cheap ass wax paper; relationships are hard work.
Yes, you say, but they are so worth the effort! I do not disagree with you, it’s an awfully great feeling to know that a few humans on this planet love and care about you.
It’s as soothing as a mug of hot chocolate, isn’t it?
But from what I’ve always experienced (for me anyways) is that they take so much of my energy, they quickly wear my ass out.
I can quickly put labels on it, hey man, I’m an empath and an introvert, what the hell do you expect? But it runs deeper than that for me, especially within the last year.
I GET CLOSE TO SOMEONE AND THEN THEY HURT ME.
And you know what? It is not fun. It is the major suck, I’m talking total suckage, here.
Being the sensitive soul that I am, I get emotional quickly. I have so many issues that my issues have issues. I panic easily, then I cry. I have wicked nasty anxiety attacks that scare the living shit outta me on the regular. A great portion of these bad boys are brought on by my fellow homosapions, often unintentionally (and sometimes on purpose, trust me, it does happen more than you’d like to think.)
Basically, if I were tight with a large quantity of people, I’d go completely apeshit.
I don’t want that. (Remember that total suckage thingy?)
I care about so many people, but for my own welfare, I find it difficult to let the bonding occur. The more persistent the individual, the more of a chance they’ll have in knowing the last time I had a truly successful bowel movement.
I’ll end this post with a random thought that
pooped popped into my head:
The Universe has a shitty sense of humor, with safety pins always at the ready to pop your iridescent bubble.