Tales From The Trenches: Tale #46

While Kasey takes a break this week, the lovely Hannah submitted this beautifully empowering piece, Save Your Heart. I hope you enjoy! xoxo
SAVE YOUR HEART

I have this big phrase painted on my bedroom wall, amongst others. But this one really stood out to me.

Save your heart for someone who leaves you breathless.

Since I was a fresh-faced girl in Grade 3, I’ve always dreamed of the perfect man coming to sweep me off of my feet – the guy that will rescue me, give me piggy backs, laugh with me, cry with me, allow me to have my space, hold my hand. Pretty much, I wanted perfection in the form of a male. I wanted the ultimate boyfriend. I wanted someone who will leave me breathless.
I’ve grown up, and I’ve begun to see that perfection and ultimate boyfriends and no breath aren’t always the best things. Sometimes, perfect isn’t what you need. There are times when there are little quirks you just need to make you smile. Things like improper grammar in texts and a tendency to crack knuckles; the inside jokes you know that no one else does; that snort, chuckle, or cackle that can drive you up the wall, but it also makes you smile bigger than the ocean. Sometimes, ultimate boyfriends fail. You build them up and you have this ultra image of what they can be, how amazing and wonderful and beautiful and perfect, and did we mention how amazing they are? And so, when they fail, we sit and we’re hurt. Our perfect image is majorly blotched, and we don’t know what to do. No longer are they ultimate – they’re just average. The last one is obvious – having no breath means you’re pretty much dead. Sure, it’s nice to feel out of breath because your heart is racing. But no breath = no life, and that equals no fun.

Save your heart for someone that loves me above all. Save your heart for someone who makes you smile and is willing to hold on during the tears. Save your heart for the boy that wants you; the boy that’s going to fight to make you see how amazing he is and that he’s worth your time; the boy that shares your dreams and inspires you to reach higher, inspires you to write. Don’t go giving your heart out to every boy that shows the slightest interest – but don’t lock it up tight; don’t let yourself become jaded and unfeeling. Take your heart and wait. Because by saving it, by not giving little pieces of it away over and over again, your heart will fully experience the wondrous feeling of having someone truly care about it, and you. So save your heart.

Confession – I am not a patient person. Many people can attest to this. I do not like being surprised, I want to know what secrets you’re not telling me. Because people keep trying to surprise me, I’ve gotten really good at guessing what they’re going to give me or tell me, and on and on. Thus, this makes saving my heart a little hard.
It’s not that I’m a slut. But I get lonely really easily, especially while I’m waiting. To pass the time while I wait, I have this unfortunate tendency to give small little pieces of my heart away. I tell myself that it’s not going to matter – the pieces are so small, it’s not like I’m going to notice one day that they’re gone. There’s a problem in this – I’m not getting pieces back. I am not making up a heart from this, I’m not getting these pieces back. Whoever gets this heart – beware of some holes you might have to fix. I tend to give my heart out to boys that show slight interest, and then I’m hurt when they return it to me – bruised, battered, and more broken than when I gave it to them.

What’s been the biggest problem in this whole giving-my-heart-away thing? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a heart in exchange. And that has to play a part in love – giving, but not getting. You cannot live without a heart, though. I’m left to wonder if maybe – just maybe – one day, when you’ve saved your beautiful heart up and give it to that wonderful boy who proved himself worthy, you get his heart in return. I can see that being a beautiful exchange.
“Here,” I’ll say. “It’s yours now. I’ve been saving it for you. See, I’ve been hurting for a long time. And I’ve been lonely. Here’s the scar from when a boy took a sledgehammer to it. That patch is holding it together. Here’s the time I bruised it myself – it was a lonely night for me. I want you to be careful with this heart, because I put a lot of time into getting it repaired. I’ve learned to use it on my own, but I haven’t given it away in a while. Because of that, it will be very fragile. But I’m giving it to you today because I believe in you and us. I believe that you will take care of it, and that you’ll be gentle with it. It’s so very delicate. Please promise me you’ll take care of it. Don’t put it in a jar; keep it with you and protect it.”

He’ll take it, so very carefully in his hands. He’ll look at it so intently, and I’ll start to feel a bit ashamed. Fear will begin to swim in my head; thoughts of “It’s too soon!” will swarm in. And he’ll look up at me, with the biggest grin I have ever seen on his face; fear will swim away. He’ll delicately put it down, and he’ll hug me. He’ll wrap me in a hug so tight, I might not be able to breathe. When he lets go, he’ll look at me again, and he’ll be searching deep into my eyes.
Ever so gently, he’ll reach out for his heart. “Here,” he’ll say. “It’s yours now. It’s seen better days, and it’s not in the top condition. I, too, have been repairing it for you. A girl tossed my heart to the ground, and it broke. Right open. I don’t want that to happen again. I know you’ll take care of it, more than anyone else. That’s why I’m giving it to you. Because I want you to have this important piece of me, and I know you won’t hurt it ever again. Please take care of it.”

And we’ll kiss. We’ll laugh. We’ll hug. We’ll tell stories of the hurt we once experienced. And we’ll hold hands, and hold each other’s hearts. And in that moment, in that beautiful exchange of hearts, I think we’ll be happy – ecstatic with our lives. I certainly hope we’ll be happy. I wonder if our hearts will grow stronger with each other; if – with each beat – they’ll adapt to a new home, and I wonder if they’ll thrive in that new home. Scars can become less prominent, patches can be removed, bruises can fade. We’ll heal.

So for now, I’m waiting. And saving. Impatiently at times, but still saving.

[Photos via cosmic]