That's What You Get

I drew this (in the girl's bathroom I believe) my senior year of high school. I thought I knew everything then, everything. Or at least I acted like I knew everything. I acted flawless, solid faced, sometimes emotionless. I'm afraid to figure out if this was a positive thing, or if being vulnerable was my best route. Vulnerable and sad and broken by souls that I thought built me up more than tore me down. Sometimes I crave being vulnerable again, or, perhaps, I crave someone to be vulnerable with. Someone to stop lying with. I walk around and quietly criticise, but in ways different that I do with friends and playing silly games to cover up the fact of my unhappiness. I've tried to be happy for the world, and so many days I am, but my unhappiness is for the people feeling like me. Sometimes for me. Sometimes for them.
It would be nice if someone could let me know exactly what I'm doing wrong.