Now Playing: Cut by Plumb (I may seem crazy or painfully shy, but these scars wouldn't be so hidden if you would just look me in the eye)

The tables have turned again.

I've always liked the company of men. I feel like I get along better with men; I like how simple and straightforward they can be. I love brutal honesty, I love the sheer incapacity for them to not say anything that's on their mind; I guess my guy friends are lucky that I have quite a strong stomach for the more grisly things. I like how men can be cold, and hard, and manipulative and cruel, but they're distinctly lacking the inner bitch gene; girls...really can't say the same.

I've been friends with boys my whole life; it never ended well for either of us, because I would have the annoying tendancy of falling in love and getting jealous. But I've had the time of my life just being one of the boys; and, later, when I grew up, playing favourites...

All that being said, I have to bite my tongue a lot with men. Sometimes the things they do cut deep and leave a scar, but I have to forgive and forget, always; because I know they cannot help it. The deepest, darkest secrets of my heart...it's not exactly good conversation, and sometimes it's very tiring being endearing and enchanting and enigmatic. It's hypocritical for me to say that I don't particularly like mood swings, sudden changes in atmosphere; but I think one unstable, volatile emotional state is more than enough, don't you? I never know how they're going to react; the men I know don't talk, and you know me...I talk, a lot. Sometimes they can be very...insensitive. It's like they can turn their emotions off at will and, well...I can't. 

Is selfishness an innate quality? I feel like women have been trained, from little girls, to think of others, to be the nurturer. I'll never be hard up on compliments and sympathy. Men don't really buy into that kind of stuff, though... 

And so I've turned once more to the company of women. I love how girls can keep secrets, but more than that, they can talk about them, too. Anything that's happened, anything that's hurting, I know I can say to a woman. I don't have to pretend to be okay when I'm not.

What am I even talking about? I'm sixteen. I'm still a baby. I don't know anything about men.

Don't take this seriously. I'm just rambling in between coughing my lungs out. 

The greatest wisdom is to accept that you know nothing.