Every time I force myself to act distant and cold, something inside me breaks a little more
Every time I force myself to act distant and cold, something inside me breaks a little more. I do it to shield myself from getting hurt again, but the truth is I’m not cold at all. I’m the kind of person who feels everything deeply. I want to text good morning and good night, to check in during the day, to hold someone’s hand for hours, to stay close and never pull away. Being clingy and sweet comes naturally to me, yet I bury it under layers of indifference because the world has taught me that softness gets punished. It kills me slowly, this constant pretending. I end up feeling empty and guilty, like I’m betraying my own heart just to survive. No one sees the real me—the one who would give everything if only it felt safe. So I stay guarded, even when it hurts the most.
