The truth is, no matter how much she avoided admitting to it, she got hurt easily by the people she cared deeply about. She didn’t blame them; she blamed herself. She blamed herself for a lot of things nowadays: for never telling people what was really on her mind, for letting people control her life and trample over her, for never admitting that deep down below the tough exterior she wore over herself like it belonged to her, she was as soft and delicate as an ice-apple, and as fragile as glass. She never said so, because she thought believing she was strong would make her strong. But she always had the last cry. Every night, she struggled to sleep because she couldn’t find peace. And of course, it was all her own doing.