Hot and Cold

Sometimes the shame of what kind of person I truly am cripples me. Not a confident, cool person, but a fraud, too wracked with insecurities and self-doubt to be of much admiration or help to anyone. This intimidating front I put up, it's convincing so long as I don't let the cracks show because once one of the walls come down, the rest tumbles quickly afterward, and it becomes apparent that I'm not strong at all. Better to keep them (to keep him, to keep her) far from my soft inner body so there's nothing to hurt when we eventually part ways.

If I’m not careful, I get invested too soon and too much. My emotional spectrum exists in two opposite ends: either I've written you off or completely invested my time and energy in getting to know you. Happy, middle-ground mediums were never an option for me. If they were, I would have taken advantage of them by now. Instead, I scare people away, whether by my coldness or passion. The former preserves my defenses; the latter blasts them open. Which is the more frightening, or genuine?

People think I don't care, but I do. 

I care too much.