Sharing your heart part 2

This is going in a completely different direction than I originally intended.

So it's been a couple weeks since I started feeling like I had made this radical, life-altering decision. And at first, everything was good because, why would I have written all those things if I hadn't really felt that way? However, now some time has passed and even the smallest of wounds have yet to heal. I again feel like I stripped down and paraded every last part of myself that still felt like it hadn't been tampered with. Nothing of myself is my own. And now there's this other feeling that I can't stand and I don't know how to bounce back from it.

Information that I am the sole keeper of never stops streaming from my lips. I can't have a conversation with anyone anymore without revealing something I've never said to anyone before. I'm not breaking down and having a heart to heart, I'm simply stating a thought or memory like I'm reading a bus schedule. "Yeah, I struggle with that." "I feel the same way." "I have this problem." Before, I was a mystery. Before, no one asked me anything. Before, no one bothered me because I always made it clear that I didn't want to be talked to. Now, I vomit secrets.

I can't stop talking about myself to people. Almost everyone, close friend or roommate or acquaintance or classmate, they all know something more about me now. I am uncomfortable with this person I have become. Instead of feeling safe and loved and cared about, I'm constantly on edge. I feel so alone without myself. I don't have my security blanket of my past to wrap myself in. Is this good or bad?

I mean, I don't want friends. I never cared what people thought of me. I like being alone in the sense that I am never obligated to spend time with people. Me, myself, and I. I have made fun of people like the "new me," who talk non-chalantly about their lives and struggles without warning. Like it's easy. Like they're detached from the words, the experiences, the feelings. I never want to become that. I gave a part of myself away by speaking and I'll never get those things back now. I traded in what I knew, what kept me sane, for a bunch of relationships that are going to be the death of me.

I don't know what the answer is. Not for everyone at least. Maybe there is no black or white answer. Maybe we all are just supposed to do what feels okay for us. I just know that I hate what I've done with "sharing my heart."