The story of us

Once upon a time, at an unspecified amount of time ago, I met you. We had a common interest that kept us together as friends. Along the way, we learnt more about each other. We learnt that we had other similar interests. There were things we could always talk about. There was never a dull moment in our friendship. We were well and truly happy. 
But alas, something happened (as it always does). A slight bit of doubt creeps in, miscommunications build up, we used to be as clear as crystal, able to read each other perfectly. But soon the dust sets in, the once-clear glass begins to smudge and cloud up. Maybe it wasn't anything big when it first started. It was a small fib. Or maybe the concealment of something that did not wish to be shared. But that hiding manifested into a small, yet ever-growing gap between us. Slowly, we began to hide more, retreating into our shells, closing our books. And one day, something big happens. Maybe it's a fight. Or maybe, something happened to me and you weren't there for me. You didn't stand by me. Things don't end well between us. We don't consider each other as a person we'd rely on anymore. We'd say we're friends, and manage a hi or bye if we see each other, but we can't go back. We can never go back. I can't trust you anymore and I wouldn't know what to say to you anymore that I'd feel comfortable sharing. Apart from small talk. But if you haven't forgotten, I hate small talk. I consider it a necessary evil because it's how you warm up in conversation with strangers and new friends. But it's an absolute waste of time if the conversation isn't going anywhere because it tells me nothing about you and tells you nothing about me. 
That's the end of the story.

I've had this narrative repeated in my life so many times. And I wonder why I still do it. Why do I give so much when I could end up falling flat on my face? The joy is great, but the pain is excruciating. Why do I bother to trust new people I meet? Why do I always want to make new friends? Everytime this story ends, I put my guard up. But over time, I let it down again. Sooner or later, I get hurt again. In the midst, I also meet others who actually stay. And I guess maybe that's why I gamble with my heart.