I don't like sharing feelings. Period.

I might sound like a very rude and mean person in this one, but just go with it. I have had many (MANY!) arguments with my close friends about this. A lot of people get annoyed with me when I don't respond to text messages or phone calls or reply to messages. HUGE APOLOGIES but this is just me. If I am going through a hard time, let's multiply that by a billion problems, I don't wanna be talking to people. Call me weird, I don't care. I am just NOT one of those people who stay on the phone for like 2 hours and talk non stop. I am one of those people who get icky if the person doesn't hang up in a few minutes if you have nothing to talk about. I hate it when people are doing other things while talking to you and asking you to hold every two minutes. Writing is my get away. I don't like sharing my problems, for many reasons.

With the few, selective best friends that I have... I share "some" things. But most of the times I don't. Why? Because half the time, I know people can't help with anything. All they can do is listen. That's cool but I don't want someone to just be a listener. If I need help, I'd ask. But when people force me to vent when I don't even consider you important enough to tell you things, I get pissed off. Don't ask me to share my family problems with you when you're just an acquaintance. You're probably gonna go home and make fun of the shit I tell you. So, why be nice? DON'T!

Other reasons. For one, people have a hard time understanding me. I am my own person. I can get worried about issues that would not even affect a hair follicle on your head if it was a problem in your life. I don't want to be judged. Who does? A problem might be a huge to me and it might not mean shit to you. Please, don't give me your opinions on my problems. You wouldn't know. You have not been in my place. You can't be. I am sorry I sound like a bitch but I am super frustrated. This is the reason I was trying to avoid writing a blog from the past few days but now I am at a point where I can just explode.

Two, if you are a person who has not been there for me in the past when I needed you, chances are I won't feel comfortable telling you shit. And for you Kanav, this has been the case three times. Don't fucking blame me for that. You should have tried being there for me. Don't come to me afterwards when I have handled it all and then ask "what happened?" No. You don't need to know what happened. You weren't fucking there when it happened, and now it's over. So there is no use asking. Please do both of us a favor and get over it.

I know it is very bad for a person's physical and emotional self to remain bottled up inside. But when I am at that point, I usually share a lot of things with my parents, particularly with my mom. My parents are the coolest parents in the world. That's why I have never had a problem growing up. I have not made stupid mistakes. I have not picked up any bad habits or done things I shouldn't have done. I respect my parents too much to even go down that route. And I vent to them when I need to. They are people I can trust, and rely on. They are family, enough said. I can't share everything with people. That's just me. Why don't you get that? Why do I have to justify that? Stop telling me I will feel better by sharing and telling you things. I think I know about my feelings more than you do. If I feel you're worthy enough for me to open my intimate details to you, I will do it myself.

A note for you Sharma:-
I don't share things with you, not because I don't consider you my own or important, but because you're sitting in a completely different country. Yes, I am going through a rough patch in life, and you're not here for me. It's pathetic for me to tell you things "online" or "over the phone." I am not that person. I will tell you in person when you're here. I don't "hide" things. I just care for you more than you think. You already have so much crap going on in your own life, that I don't want to give you additional stress. Also, because you were never there. Most of the time, I am mommying you and settling you with your issues. I don't wanna brag about this but I find MYSELF to be the person who encourages you, motivates you, and helps resolve your issues. And we just never happen to think about mine. Half the time I talk to you with a smile on or make jokes, I am dying inside. And you can't even tell because you can't fucking see me. So, what's the point? Trust me, let me be alone. I will be okay soon, I promise.

Done, out of words now.