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[NF] Do you regret opening up to people?

Abcdenfp

Terpsichore
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:hug:
omg right? It's like a choice of evils it feels like, I feel so dead inside when I have to keep every little thing locked down. But then it's the worst when the sword erupts from your chest, and you turn around and huh I guess they werent worthy of my trust after all? And its hard to not like blame myself.

You understand me , at my core.. for real this is exactly it.
 

Hermit of the Forest

Greetings humans • Hunting
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I do regret opening up sometimes. For many reasons my default mindset has been that I shouldn’t open up at all. That isn’t very healthy for me, though. Trustworthy people are important.
 

Red Memories

Haunted Echoes
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I live my life fairly open, I had always been a bit of an open book and I do have some regrets from it. Major ones, sharing a lot with the wrong people. I've grown a little more guarded now but finding balance is key.
 

Firebird 8118

DJ Phoenix
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Huh... I guess I'm the only one who regrets holding back rather than opening up. :mellow:

(Maybe I do regret opening up in this case...)
 

The Cat

Just a Cat who hangs out at the Crossroads
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Huh... I guess I'm the only one who regrets holding back rather than opening up. :mellow:

(Maybe I do regret opening up in this case...)

Oh I regret not opening up, which is why I suppose I've been in the position to regret opening up so much. When you're damned if you do, and damned if you don't there is only one valid plan of action....

Cowabunga it is.
tmnt-noooo.jpeg
 

Red Memories

Haunted Echoes
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Huh... I guess I'm the only one who regrets holding back rather than opening up. :mellow:

(Maybe I do regret opening up in this case...)

I think it is a balance, per say, I've found over the years now I've done both and had regrets from both ends. There was a boy at my first college who I regret not opening myself to, honestly. He was a wonderful, sensitive man with vast amounts of ambition and kindness. I wish I had tried harder.

But you also have the perspective of my predator - who I regret being open with at all.

It's a double edged sword.
 

Frosty

Poking the poodle
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Depends on the person. I am cautious because I know how easy it is for some people to use, whatever they are trustfully given, to hurt others. But I am trying to be less cautious and realize that... if you dont take the risk of opening up then you are closing yourself off to a lot of potentially great things/connections. I dont want to remain shut down or shut away forever out of fear- so. Im trying
 

Firebird 8118

DJ Phoenix
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I think it is a balance, per say, I've found over the years now I've done both and had regrets from both ends. There was a boy at my first college who I regret not opening myself to, honestly. He was a wonderful, sensitive man with vast amounts of ambition and kindness. I wish I had tried harder.

But you also have the perspective of my predator - who I regret being open with at all.

It's a double edged sword.

True, very true... :hug: :hug: :hug:
 

Maou

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Not NF, but I want to post anyways. :)

I work in the opposite direction. I am super open all the time, and the closer I get to people the more closed I am. I believe this is because I don't generally care about people, and I just be myself...because it is not like they will remember me, or want to be my friend. I don't expect to get along with others at all.

In the event that someone survives my personality, or have shown interest and we get along, or someone likes me for some reason. I suddenly become self conscious, and feel like I should care about their feelings. I am really, REALLY BAD at being myself if I am trying not to offend someone. My brain erupts in 50 different ways the most simple phrase can be taken as offensive or insensitive. I begin to read too much into everything and delude myself into thinking everyone hates me. I suddenly find myself socially paralyzed. Though I have been working on this, it is quite difficult to overcome.
 

senza tema

nunc rosa cras fex
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I will be open. Speak to me.


Effort at Speech Between Two People
BY MURIEL RUKEYSER

: Speak to me. Take my hand. What are you now?
I will tell you all. I will conceal nothing.
When I was three, a little child read a story about a rabbit
who died, in the story, and I crawled under a chair :
a pink rabbit : it was my birthday, and a candle
burnt a sore spot on my finger, and I was told to be happy.

: Oh, grow to know me. I am not happy. I will be open:
Now I am thinking of white sails against a sky like music,
like glad horns blowing, and birds tilting, and an arm about me.
There was one I loved, who wanted to live, sailing.

: Speak to me. Take my hand. What are you now?
When I was nine, I was fruitily sentimental,
fluid : and my widowed aunt played Chopin,
and I bent my head on the painted woodwork, and wept.
I want now to be close to you. I would
link the minutes of my days close, somehow, to your days.

: I am not happy. I will be open.
I have liked lamps in evening corners, and quiet poems.
There has been fear in my life. Sometimes I speculate
On what a tragedy his life was, really.

: Take my hand. Fist my mind in your hand. What are you now?
When I was fourteen, I had dreams of suicide,
and I stood at a steep window, at sunset, hoping toward death :
if the light had not melted clouds and plains to beauty,
if light had not transformed that day, I would have leapt.
I am unhappy. I am lonely. Speak to me.

: I will be open. I think he never loved me:
He loved the bright beaches, the little lips of foam
that ride small waves, he loved the veer of gulls:
he said with a gay mouth: I love you. Grow to know me.

: What are you now? If we could touch one another,
if these our separate entities could come to grips,
clenched like a Chinese puzzle . . . yesterday
I stood in a crowded street that was live with people,
and no one spoke a word, and the morning shone.
Everyone silent, moving. . . . Take my hand. Speak to me.
 

Firebird 8118

DJ Phoenix
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I will be open. Speak to me.


Effort at Speech Between Two People
BY MURIEL RUKEYSER

: Speak to me. Take my hand. What are you now?
I will tell you all. I will conceal nothing.
When I was three, a little child read a story about a rabbit
who died, in the story, and I crawled under a chair :
a pink rabbit : it was my birthday, and a candle
burnt a sore spot on my finger, and I was told to be happy.

: Oh, grow to know me. I am not happy. I will be open:
Now I am thinking of white sails against a sky like music,
like glad horns blowing, and birds tilting, and an arm about me.
There was one I loved, who wanted to live, sailing.

: Speak to me. Take my hand. What are you now?
When I was nine, I was fruitily sentimental,
fluid : and my widowed aunt played Chopin,
and I bent my head on the painted woodwork, and wept.
I want now to be close to you. I would
link the minutes of my days close, somehow, to your days.

: I am not happy. I will be open.
I have liked lamps in evening corners, and quiet poems.
There has been fear in my life. Sometimes I speculate
On what a tragedy his life was, really.

: Take my hand. Fist my mind in your hand. What are you now?
When I was fourteen, I had dreams of suicide,
and I stood at a steep window, at sunset, hoping toward death :
if the light had not melted clouds and plains to beauty,
if light had not transformed that day, I would have leapt.
I am unhappy. I am lonely. Speak to me.

: I will be open. I think he never loved me:
He loved the bright beaches, the little lips of foam
that ride small waves, he loved the veer of gulls:
he said with a gay mouth: I love you. Grow to know me.

: What are you now? If we could touch one another,
if these our separate entities could come to grips,
clenched like a Chinese puzzle . . . yesterday
I stood in a crowded street that was live with people,
and no one spoke a word, and the morning shone.
Everyone silent, moving. . . . Take my hand. Speak to me.

Wow... that’s deep. :heart:
 
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