Pieces Of Me [an online journal of sorts]

Entry Fifty-five: space

Maybe it's because I need space.

I'm that kind of person. The one who always needs space and can never seem to get enough of it. People suffocate me, and I hate that. I want to be that person you could talk to any time of the day and feel like it's okay to do so. I want to be that person that makes others feel warm and comfortable when they're around. The shoulder to cry on. The person who knows what to say and do at all times. But I'm not that person. I'm the farthest thing from it. I'm completely clueless, and paranoid. I'm someone whose need for space has created a bubble wide enough to push people away before they've even come to talk to me. This bubble is so thick, it feels like I'm encased in a cocoon, isolated from the world, even if I'm in a room full of people. Forever trapped, forever self-conscious, forever afraid, forever angry.

And I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.