Progress?

I feel like sometimes all I am is one big disappointment. It’s embarrassing and awkward to come by. It isn’t natural to approach people with this problem, either, so I bottle it up and let the liquids fill until I burst within the solitary comfort of my room. But it doesn’t feel comforting at all. It’s never been easy for me to open the front door and allow another pair of ears to hear the cries from my lips and the worries on my mind. I’m sheltered because I created myself this way. I carefully crafted myself to be dependent on myself but honestly, its never worked. I needed someone every step of the way. It was always only wishful thinking up until recently. Even now, I know there is that soul that wants me to be open up completely, but its still new, scary territory. I’m trying so hard to break down my walls stuck together with stubborn behavior and selfish shyness. A work in progress is never really done. But it progresses, or so I'm told.