Ciaow!
Split
Theres two me’s. The warm me; The warm me is open, kind, happy to be vulnerable. He doesn’t mind crying. He gets attached to people far too easily. People can read him, his heart is on his sleave all the time. He crys when people laugh at him. He’s like a raw cut, the more you touch it, the more you look at it, the more you torture it, the worse it gets. He’ll laugh and is a hopless romantic. But he hurts, and everyone can see.
The other me is cold. He is the plaster that you put over the cut, It doesn’t make it better but it means it can’t be prodded. He walks with his collar turned up, his head held high. He doesn’t smile. He’s not touchable. The look-but-don’t-touch type. He doesn’t cry. He’ll do anything to get what he wants. He doesn’t get attached. He hates relationships. He is Elizabeth the First. Cold, Angry, Bitter. But he hurts. but at least people can’t see.



