And I told him; love does not have to be painful. Love can be calm, peaceful, easy, fun.
He thought love was a way of self-harm and always went for the ones who would add scars to his soul.
And I told him; I can love you so beautifully. I can carry your heart in my heart and water your plants and fight against the wolfs in your head with you.
He thought whoever he loved had to be beyond reach and always went for the ones who would leave nothing but a huge heart break behind them.
And I told him; I will not break your heart or soul. I can share the burden on your shoulders and hold your hand when you think you cannot take simply one more breath. I can talk so loudly that you don’t hear those voices in your head that tell you to hurt yourself.
He thought falling was an elaborate way of dying and that giving a piece of your heart to someone meant you can never take it back and you can never be whole or be home again.
And I told him. I told him I cared. He thought hearts don’t heal.
At the end, he thought too much and I said too much.
It did not change anything.
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