Notice to a future love:
I'm frail, please be careful with me. I'm fragile, but I ask you not to wrap me in bubble wrap and stuff me in the middle of the clothes inside the bag. Please do not lock me in a forgotten box at the bottom of the cabinet's topmost shelf. Because I'm fragile. But not like that, I'm not about to fall apart. Well, more or less. You see, it is not my body that is fragile, not that my body has already put up with this world too much. Nor is that my mind, no. She learned to build her own titanium walls to protect herself from the evil world out there. Fragile here, just my heart. My heart that already lashed out and beaten, but that was only mended with a little tape crepe. My heart, already weary of suffering for those who, I know, will not reciprocate my affection. My heart, that did not lose hope. Still. My heart, which is still too gentle, too dreamy, too naive.