There comes a point when talking about it doesn’t make you feel better anymore. You just live with your mouth closed and your walls up and your heart hidden because the last time you opened up to somebody they tore you up and then left. And now you’re scared of being vulnerable and soft because you bruise like a peach, but you’re becoming so cold and stony and hard. You won’t let anyone hold your hand because you’re scared that they’ll let go. You won’t let anyone touch you because you’re afraid of getting burned. You won’t let anyone kiss you because you’re terrified of getting addicted to the taste of their mouth. And every time somebody asks you if you’re okay, you say yes without looking into their eyes because you think that you have to. You think that your pain isn’t worth the words or the time or the attention. And that makes me so, so sad.

― (via im-sad-lets-have-sex)