Who are they anyway?

I learned something recently: our true friends are those who are with us when the good things happen. They cheer us on and are pleased by our triumphs. False friends only appear at difficult times, with their sad, supportive faces, when, in fact, our suffering is serving to console them for their miserable lives. -- Paulo Coelho, The Zahir

Look around. Just how many people are there that could help you regain everything when you've lost something? I don't want to start counting because I'm afraid of knowing who'd be there for me. 

I'm a careless person. I could give away secrets, I could hurt people's feelings unintentionally or even I could kill a person with just one word. Well, the last one is partially intentional. 

My point is, people say what they think I want to hear. They feed me with pleasant things they thought were pleasant. Or sometimes people can be very heartless, voicing out opinions without even thinking. It hurts me sometimes. Hey, I didn't say your opinion wasn't worth anything. It worth my attention, if you ask me. If not, I won't be blabbering about it right here right now. 

And it's not easy for me to say things directly, to tell people that they're wrong, that they're hurting me, that they're mean for one thing or another. I don't know. There's the side of me that's really super sensitive and that's the other side of me that bears all the pain and let the ego covers it all up. 

And for one thing, I yearn people's respect but rarely they give me theirs. 

You know, trashing, or bashing (or whatever you might want to call it) my bias, or even my obsession or even things I'm interested in, is very hurtful and rude. Too rude for me I could consider unfriending you. To me, friends should respect each other. And not trashing. 

And after all these, I still couldn't say what I REALLY wanted to say in the first place. I guess I'm a soft-hearted person after all.