a facade

I can't keep secret and I never kept any.

Yet it is ironical how getting to know my true sentiments is as though some kind of code-breaking. All sentiments encrypted. The passwords are given but others often failed to interpret the codes. Like a puzzle, an anagram... exposed but oblivious under the naked-eye.

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I can never be the girl-next-door.

I'm too judgmental of everything, every new person even before they have a chance to present themselves. Perhaps I'm too self-protected to refrain anyone from having the slightest sentiment towards me. Leaving them clueless, with an impression of me often misinterpreted and misunderstood.

A paradox from the usual candor I have introduced myself with. A truth within the truth.

My hostility shields me from the remote, the unknown. Despite these, I can't help but to contradict my aversion with feelings of compassion.