I was once told, by my boss no less, that I wear my heart on my sleeve.
He wasn't being mean, it was just an observation. That was a long time ago and although I had no clue what it meant at the time, I played along as though I did. Of course I know now it means a person who doesn't conceal their feelings, and I'm okay with that. I own it. It's a part of me, neither good nor bad. It's part of this fabulous package that is moi.
It's also a big pain in the ass, because it's pretty much impossible for me to put on a facade or a shield when I'm angry or hurt. So my strategy when those things happen is to withdraw and get really quiet which is also a 'tell'...like in poker, which I wouldn't be any good at obviously lol.
I accept that I wear my heart on my sleeve and I gotta say it's been pretty bruised up over the last few weeks. I can't go into detail because some things are personal for others (me, I'm just an open sore, remember?).
I'm really pissed off that at 45 freakin years on this planet I can still be hurt like a dumb school gurl, I mean I should be past all that by now, right? Plus adding insult to injury when my gaze falls on that symbolic heart, on my sleeve.....I feel mad, embarrassed and hurt that in this instance it's so....plainly obvious...and yet I'm the only one who recognizes it.
Maybe I could play poker after all.