"I think that you were so hurt by people who didn't accept you the way you are, that now you don't understand how people might like you even when you don't like them. You don't understand what people see in you, and you are always suspicious of them. I think you don't want to take the risk of being wrong about them."
"Of discovering that they just like you for the way you are, not expecting to gain anything from you. You are already comfortable in that zone where you believe you can't trust anyone, where you believe everybody around you might try to hurt you, to harm you," his eyes found mine and the kindness I saw on them gave me goosebumps.
"Are you going to say you know that because you are the same?" He giggled.
"Actually, yes. Is it strange?"
The only strange thing is that now I see why grandma told me we were more similar than I could imagine. Seems like she was right, again.
