Making Friends…

Someone very wise once told me that if when we die, we can count all of our friends on one hand, we have had a good life

You would think that making friends would get easier with age,
Practice makes perfect,
We have been doing it all of our lives,
But on the contrary,
As we grow we obtain baggage,
It weighs us own,
We become more complex,
Less daring,
Less innocent,
Less forgiving,
And shut the door to the unknown,
Which we once welcomed with open arms,
We were not deterred by thoughts, worry or fear,
Our guards were once down,
But today,
Inevitable pain from loss and rejection effect’s us so much,
We learn to barricade ourselves off for protection,
But then often find ourselves alone!

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