I’m inside out,
You’ve scrubbed me clean
There’s nothing left for you to see
I wore my heart where it got broken,
I wish I hadn’t been so open.
I’m an open book. Whether this is a good or a bad thing, I’m still yet to decide. There is a lot of talk aimed at people who struggle to open up and reveal their innermost thoughts and feelings, but not as much surrounding those of us who are perhaps too open. In the past there have been times when I’ve tried to close myself off from the world and live a mysterious and solitary existence, but it’s literally impossible. I have too many thoughts that push against the confines of my mind until I set them free. My head may as well be a beehive, because it sure does feel like I have a swarm of busy, buzzing little bees up there. Being the person I am, I have no qualms with being open and honest when someone asks me a question. Sometimes my answer surprises them, and their impression of me alters. I see it in their eyes; the judgement when they realise that I too am a human being and won’t always fit into the little box they’ve created for me. So, if people don’t want to know my answer or hear my opinion, they shouldn’t poke the beehive.