i had someone tell me once that i liked being sad, I was quick to deny it but i think they were right. They said that I liked being sad because it was familiar and I found comfort in the familiarity. I wish I could say I looked them in the eye and proved them wrong, but instead I stood there conflicted because for once there was someone who got it. Someone that was listening. someone that picked up on the little things. But the problem with this was I didn't know if I really wanted their help. As my silence gave them the confirmation they needed I tried to rebuild as many walls as possible. The funny things is, is that this person continues to tell me that they don't know me. That they WANT to get to know me but I keep them from being able to. That I have too many walls. Little did they know with that one comment they answered so many of their questions. the truth is: I want to tell you everything, I want someone to listen, I want someone to care. But I like being sad much more than you or I, myself, seem to realize. However being sad takes a toll on someone. I don't think I want to be sad anymore.