There are weaknesses in our blood we don't know how to hide.

Two of my best friends on a couch Friday night, cocktails, wine, Disney movies and guacamole. Safe conversations under cozy blankets about boys and self-worth and our futures.

But then someone says something and someone says something else and my blood starts to boil and I feel it in my cheeks and I can't control my voice. 3 a.m. yelling at two of the people who matter most over something that should have been laughed away. Pride in me as big as the lion who represents my birthday month and who I try to blame my stubbornness for.

Any time someone tells me I'm sweet I hope they never know about those moments I become hard to love.