My Heart Is My Own

She never understood how another person could get so wrapped up in someone else, but was now realizing that she was falling into the critique she had placed all of her friends in once before. Why do people put their hearts out in the open, vulnerable and defenseless, and still expect to be in one piece after? Being weak was nothing she ever let herself become. Why spend time sewing your heart back together when you can stop it from ever being torn? Nothing seemed to make sense anymore and she spends her days as a fly on the wall listing to all the stories of broken hearts, wondering why anyone would let pain walk right into them. All she knows is that she will keep her heart in a glass box until she slips and lets someone in and it shatters. Nothing ever turns out the way it should.