Why I regret opening up to people

You said something true tonight, out loud, to someone. Now the light is off and you can hear every sentence again.

You said what you'd kept to yourself for a long time. In the moment, it felt good.

Then night comes with its "I said too much." You see the face across from you, you look for the second the other person seemed uncomfortable, and you find one. You always find one. It tugs at me a little, because the hardest part was talking, and you did it.

Underneath, it's often this: showing yourself means handing someone a reason to think less of you. So once the door is closed, you take your words back like something you lent. Meanwhile the other person is asleep, or thinking of you more gently than yesterday.

And it costs: the more you take back, the less you share, and the people who love you stay a little at the door.

You take your words back like something you lent.

I was wondering…

What is it about someone really knowing you that feels so much like being found out?