You've got your daddy's smile...

"Jesus, you're jaded."

This comes to me from the mouth of a would-have-been boyfriend.

He's known me for seven years. I shot him down last month.

This comes to me from a man who was raised in an abusive household, who had a girlfriend attempt to trap him into marriage via pregnancy, who has had at least one drug addiction I know of, who chain smokes, drinks like a fish, has been betrayed by most of his friends, who usually has his relationships end when the girl cheats on him, who has been tossed out by his family without thought, and is likely one of the most damaged and fucked over, yet still functioning, people I know.

And yet, when it came down to it, I startled him with my jaded outlook.

I had always protected him from that part of myself. Always let him see me as someone upbeat and, while not naive, always assuming things would turn out right. Not because of any game, but because he needed that sort of pick up. He didn't have anyone else to turn to for it.

So when he shoved me away, an expected result of my own actions, I let him go.

And when he came back, hurt and angry, lashing out, I let my mask slip. Not a lot, but enough to show him that whatever missiles he had to fling my way were going to do very little, and that I would welcome any damage he could do.

I still have some pieces of my worldview that are not covered with scar tissue, you see. I need to work on that.

It disturbed him. It would disturb anyone, really. I don't blame him for his shock.

It was just unexpected.

One of those moments, where you look at yourself, and ask... What exactly have I done to myself?