There’s a wall around my heart. It’s
tall, and secure, and sturdy, and thick. This wall is made of metal plates and
concrete materials that are supposed to be impenetrable. These materials are
not supposed to crumble, and they’re not supposed to let anything get in,
either. At least what I’ve learned
throughout my years in the Safe Deposit Box industry.
The wall is a protection I’ve build
to keep me safe, to prevent me from giving myself over to another human being
only to be crushed, over and over again. I’ve heal and put myself back as one
over the years but I never learn to let someone in again. And no matter how
many times I try to love again, to trust someone again, to allow myself to lean
on another human being, I realize my heart is incapable to feel again. I build my wall to not let anything in, or
crumble under any circumstances.
I do not want to hurt anyone with
those walls, but they’re there because I needed to carry my heart a little more
gently through this life. I needed to rebuild the broken pieces of my shattered
heart. I wouldn’t deny I was the one that put them up and I may have forgotten
where I kept the keys to my padlock heart. I may have forgotten what it is like
to let love in and share my life with someone.