There was the reason why I hated how I couldn't help wearing my heart on my sleeve.
My emotions were too easy to read from my body language and my face.
Back in secondary school, after watching a television show, I had tried to no avail to create an air of mystery around me and not react as much to events just like the cool, edgy girls did in the show, but it ended up being extremely difficult.
I always ended up displaying my emotions on my face and walking around with my heart on my sleeve.
"Nothing is wrong," I said, trying to keep an impassive mask on my face.
"Of course something is wrong. I can read you like a book. Talk to me, is it about your friend? Family issues? Did I do anything wrong?" He asked, stretching out a hand to me.
Sighing heavily, I walked toward him and took his hand which promptly led to him pulling me down to the bed to be right by his side.