“Vulnerability is still a weakness for me but I think I’m getting better at it. Real vulnerability – not sending texts at midnight to crushes in a half-drunk state. Or Facebook messaging your feelings or whatever infantile substitutes our generation plugs in the name of love and affection.

No, I think real vulnerability means there is no room to save face, there is great possibility for hurt, but there is also great possibility and potential for something that could become love, if it isn’t already. And some people do this loudly – they emphatically don’t subscribe to any of “the rules” or care to be the one “in power,” or mind being the one who cares more, and texts first, and all the other insignificant details we’ve made so grandeur.

Yes, some people love loudly and it’s perfectly wonderful. But some people don’t. I used to be jealous of people who loved loudly, secretly, but jealous all the same. While a lot of people seemingly envied my detached demeanor, it came, or rather it oftentimes comes, at a heavy price. No one would ever mistake me for someone who cares too much, even when I have; even when I do. Because unlike those who love loudly, I don’t wear my emotions on my sleeve. And even as I wrestle with this weakness that is vulnerability, I don’t know if I ever will be that person – the one who wears emotions on their sleeve – and I don’t think I have to be.”


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