He’s a happy boy. Smiles all the time. Kind to a fault. Polite. Opens doors.
But no friends. Being nice isn’t all that’s needed for friendship.
He doesn’t connect
He is different
But he smiles. He is nice. At home he cries.
He wants someone to love him
Someone who can’t
So he cries.
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OK, thanks for writing this. This hits home just a little too hard. You've used just a few words to describe succinctly my pain for so long.
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I never got it. I never understood why such a nice guy like myself was so incapable of friendship.
So many years later, I finally get it. I am afraid to connect with others. Connecting with others requires vulnerability. But whenever I've done that in the past, I would get hurt. Being my authentic self had never been an option.
Because of that, I am always alone.
And I cry too.