Caesar didn't die because he was stabbed. He died because of who stabbed him. We're hurt most not just by what is done/said but by who does/says them. Take a lesson and keep your distance from everybody so that nobody can leave you bleeding to death on a marble Roman floor. But of course if you let nobody close enough to you, you die a death of loneliness. Look at it this way. Either way it's a gamble. Do you get the human friends, you know those flawed creatures likely to make a mistake and allow greed or power or ambition or insecurity to get in the way, or do you get the angelic, saintly friends who are a statistical rarity? All people fail us in one way or another. It's just about choosing who fails you out of malic and who fails you out of imperfection. But if you're sensibly afraid to get close to anyone or get lucky and decide to have your slumber parties and swap secrets with Brutus, you're dead ahead of schedule. The whole Ides of March thing. Some times the people we pick to protect us are the ones who have drawn the piercing blade, aimed at wounds they know we already have. What ironic lives we lead.