I’ve always been told to protect my heart, to guard it to the very end, to never let anything slip through the cracks. Despite these admonitions echoing through my mind, I could never quite manage to adhere to them. No matter how many times I was warned, it seemed as though my heart defied such cautious intentions, resisting any attempt to shield it. It is as if I am not engineered that way. Nineteen years of friendships and relationships, all for them to crash and burn in the end, leaving behind ashes of memories that still sting. It didn’t matter who was at fault — my heart was always on a silver platter, ready to be offered to anyone who asked.
Destroy me all you like, I just want you to stay.
I’ve tried to deny it, but the truth remains: my heart has always been worn on my sleeve, and I fear it will always be that way. You could rip my heart from under me, and I would still trust you to take care of it. You could set it on fire, and I would still crave the love you once promised. You could strangle it, stomp on it, drain it until it no longer beats, and I would still love you. I would still come crawling back the moment you needed me, even when I knew I was only setting myself up for more heartbreak.
I remember calling my mother at 4:32 AM, tears streaming down my face as I gasped for air between sobs. I urged her to tell me what was wrong with me, as though she held the answers to all my suffering. Why was I nobody’s first choice? Why wasn’t my heart enough? What was so fundamentally flawed within me? I was consumed by anger and hurt, yet deep down, I knew I would always put others first, even when I wasn’t a priority to them. I was the backup, the contingency plan — my place solidified in the shadows of their lives.
I was the chore nobody wanted to do, the stray dog nobody wanted to feed — starving, bleeding, but still willing to give everything I had in the hope that someone might stay. It’s a painful reality to face, but despite the hurt, I don’t want to guard my heart. I don’t want to become distant and cold, shutting out the world to protect myself from further pain. Yet, I recognize the necessity of learning where my efforts will be appreciated and reciprocated.
My heart is too soft for this world, too tender for the harshness it often encounters. But perhaps it’s not about hardening oneself against the pain but about discerning where to invest one’s love and kindness. It’s about finding those rare souls who will cherish and value the heart I offer so freely. My journey continues, with all its scars and lessons, as I seek the balance between vulnerability and self-preservation, striving to keep my heart open without letting it be endlessly wounded.
“You’re going to break my heart aren’t you?”
However, there are undeniable dangers that come with such deep attachment. Attachment can blind us to the faults of others, making us overlook red flags that signal future heartbreak. It creates dependencies that are unhealthy, leaving us vulnerable and stripped of our self-worth when the object of our affection withdraws. When our sense of self becomes intertwined with another, their absence can render us feeling incomplete, as though we are nothing without their presence. The fear of loss can paralyze us, trapping us in relationships that no longer serve us out of fear of the void they might leave behind.
Moreover, the pain of severed attachments can be profound, leaving emotional scars that take years to heal. It can foster a cycle of hurt and mistrust, making it harder to open up to others in the future. We risk losing parts of ourselves, diluting our identities in the hope of fitting into someone else’s life. The dangers of attachment lie not in the act of loving itself but in the potential to lose ourselves in the process. Therefore, while the heart’s capacity to love is its greatest strength, it is also a vulnerability that must be navigated with wisdom and care.
