Dear Heart, I Hate You

You could meet a thousand people and none of them would mean anything to you, but then you’d meet one, and suddenly they meant everything.

Who we loved wasn’t always a choice. Sometimes it was an irresistible pull, a gravitational force, something we couldn’t see or control that drew us toward another. Sure, we could try to fight it. But in the end, love always won because it didn’t fight fair. It had a secret weapon, a tool of sheer force to use against us—our heart. And once that son of a bitch got involved, you could kiss away all options you thought might exist.

It was heartbreaking when you recognized that moment when pieces of your reality turned into memories.

But then I remembered that our hearts didn’t care about logic or time. My heart didn’t play by rules that my mind made up. It didn’t follow silly timelines or measure its feelings based on the number of days it had known someone. No, hearts simply felt, whether you wanted them to or not.

She wasn't the type to give away her heart, but she had so quickly opened up and given it to me.

Nothing made you realize how much you’d been ignoring your heart, until someone came along and smacked it awake simply by existing.

Please let him feel it too. Because how much would it suck if I was the only one feeling this heart-altering stuff here? It would suck. A lot. The

I was a self-professed workaholic, so everyone in my life knew I didn’t date. It wasn’t entirely intentional on my part; I just didn’t make men a priority at this point in my life. But that wasn’t to say that if I met someone who intrigued me, I wouldn’t give it a shot. Because I absolutely would. But therein lay the rub—very few guys sparked my interest and managed to hold it.

You could close your heart to love forever, but you’d miss out on all the good that came with giving and receiving love. You had to decide if it was worth the risk.