Opening up to others is hard. I don’t find it gets any easier as the years pass by either. Not least because it’s difficult to decide who, if anyone, welcomes such vunerablity in a person. The risk of getting burnt often cripples my attempts.
It’s November, the day after my 23rd birthday. The temperature outside is finally dropping, the radiators are turning on in my student house, the tone of the music I listen to is changing. The scene reoccurs every year and evokes similar kind of feelings each time. Similar, not the same. I’m not sure it gets any easier, but these days at least I find more enjoyment amongst it all.