I was just a hidden ball of anxiety, justifying my defensivness in my head, telling myself that if I was vulnerable, it could've led into a situation that would've been harder to get away from. I use to be easy, thinking if someone was attracted to me, then they saw something valuable in me, but that always ended up as another blow to my ego and spirit, being reminded that some people just want a sexual venue to unload. Some people flirt to feel sexy, some people have a hidden adjenda, some people are dangerously charming, use it to lure another victim. Meanwhile I'm still haunted by the fact that this guy will think I'm a bitch, that all black women are cold and uptight.

How do you know when to protect yourself and when to be sociable? I've had moment where I've never had to think about it, and the instinct just comes over me to shake a brother's hand and talk about which Caribbean Island our parents came from, but yesterday my static was buzzing like a powerhouse. I felt like I had a set alarm, and he passed into a restricted zone.

Sometimes, when I see a pretty sister walk by, I give a friendly nod. Very rarely, do I get a smile back, but I've had the cold shoulder too. I take it understandably, believing I know where she's coming from but wishing she'd give me a warm smile back.

I was reflecting on yesterday afternoon, to make me feel better. Before even getting ready for rehearsal, I was watching, "King Lear", to get an idea of my character, since our play is very loosely based on this classic (It made me fall asleep), when my mom came into my room, holding 2 home-made birthday cards I'd made for her years ago, the type of cards you get at art stores to paint or do calligraphy or whatever, and she was expressing how she still appreciates them, that they really meant a lot to her. I was so touched, I gave her a hug and a kiss. She saves everything my brothers and I give her, yet my dad has barely any traces of our gifts. I loved my mom even more at that moment, feeling warm all over, savouring the moment as the movies kept rolling in the VCR. For a moment, it made me curious on why she did that at that moment, but I pushed aside the thought. My mom has never been manipulative or had a hidden adjenda in my entire life. Of all the people to trust in the entire world, she's it. I feel like there's so much I need to tell her, yet confessing things to her, to anyone, is scary. The day she dies, I'll regret not telling her everything. She's always said that if there's something I have to tell her, tell her soon enough, and don't wait until years later.

I just hate being vulnerable. I hate exposing my heart to someone and seeing them take from me for their own selfish benefit, as so often has happened. I hated feeling like I was a push-over, like being nice is a stupid thing, like giving to people makes you weak. When others take from you, you're looked down upon, scolded into feeling like you're the one who did something wrong, not the person who took advantage of you. They go away, victorious, unaware of your feelings, while you have a new piece of emotional baggage to carry with you.

I want to unload that cart of broken hearts and betrayed souls.

I'll find a way, I think.