Take my heart with you.
I’ve lived a lot of years of safety. Seconds and minutes and hours and days and months and years of breathing easily without that catch in the chest. I love hard and I love well when I know the cushion is there to catch me. How does one teach himself to take risks? How much self-protection is too much? I don’t want to look back and see life that wasn’t lived simply because my eyes were closed too tightly to allow any light to get in. Fuck safety and the crossing of arms to prevent anything getting close enough to touch. I want to love extravagantly and not only when it will be returned. I want to take risks of having my heart broken because then at the very least, it’s serving the purpose it was created for. I want to be seen for all my flaws and strengths and laughter. I crave connection. Deep breaths taken together, water lapping at my feet, lyrics that level and anger and demand response. Eye contact. See me. I put it in a box once and I gave it away and it wasn’t enough, so I left it in that box. Days and months and years of forced suffocation simply because it was safe. With a deep breath I start to open the box and let a little light in. Reminding myself it’s worth it, to trust, to connect, to hurt. My eyes are open. My arms are at my sides. Please take my heart with you.