A thousand times I think about the perils that I swerve my heart towards. The direction we should both steer clear of. The end that will see the heart grow hard and shrink in its loveless state. The end that will see the self turn into someone unrecognisable. But the path is oh so tempting and its perils though visible seem trivial from afar. Only on closer encounter will it become apparent that we have been moving in the wrong direction, me and my heart. Before it is too late I should halt all efforts to proceed. Before it is too late I should reason with the heart and obey the head. While there is still love left in my heart I should treasure it and not keep it for someone else, for some other time.
If I am not to hope and see my heart grow cold and hard, then I would rather have my pulsing bundle of muscle go down with a tragic ending. Never allowing it to stop beating with hopeful pride. I am terrified of even the slightest chance that because my heart thinks it will never be loved, it will start to retreat. Retreat and hide, grow thick skin, impenetrable armour. And one day, it will simply not care. If I have any control over my heart, then it is my sole duty, calling, to make sure that this fragile and determined deity never loses hope. That no matter how hopeless and loveless the days may really be, my heart can go on parading its lovely frocks and laced dresses of hope. Never fan its insecurities, never give in to the luring darkness that reality or disappointment may pose.
One moment is all. One moment I dread. One moment in the future will determine how badly my heart will be crushed, how high it will be lifted. I have to prepare it to hope, but hope with caution. I have to keep it safe so that when the blow comes it can withstand the quake in one piece. My heart is full and honest, scarred in places but intact in its optimism. To shield it from that moment seems impossible. That moment will crush us both. That moment will leave a bearing on all future endeavours of me and my heart.
There is after all. I cannot tell what the future holds. I can only hope. I hope my heart will be wiser, braver, stronger more beautiful and honest than I ever knew it could. I hope you will treasure it. I hope I can entrust it in your care. I know that when that moment comes, your heart will be just as crushed as mine. There we will stand, two crushed hearts, hidden from each other, tangled in lies that will sound something like “I’m fine, and you?”.
