I’ll show you my heart but it’s not pretty.

I’ve been trying to understand my heart, its defenses and masks, its motives and desires,

Trying to decide if pain has shut it off and made it cold,

Or if pain has broken and bruised my heart so much,

That I love the wrong people too much in a desperate attempt to heal.

I tried to be heartless, to not give a fuck, to inspire love and take and use and destroy without feeling a thing. 

I’m cynical and I say I don’t believe in love.

I say I don't care.

I’d die before I’d admit that any man had the power to hurt me.

But in reality I'm broken inside. 

My heart has been broken in so many ways, I still feel the ragged pieces, cutting through me from inside. 

So many fucked up things have been done to me in the name of "love", I don't even know what love is anymore. 

I poured out my love to so many people, desperately trying to find someone who would love me back, but I never did. 

I never did because I was looking for love to fix my brokenness, to put the pieces of me back together.

I was looking for something that would take away the pain and validate my love. 

I loved selfishly. 

But I don’t need anyone else’s love to heal me, no one else can make me whole. 

I am loving myself, and my love is enough. 

I may still be broken, I may still have ragged edges, but that’s ok, and once my love is enough, I can love others without needing them to fill me. 

I can love fearlessly, because even though I might get hurt, I will never be destroyed by another person as long as my confidence, worth, peace, and love come from within. 

So yes, I've been hurt, yes I've been weak, yes I've been desperate and needy. 

I'm not pretending I don't have a heart anymore. 

I have a heart and it’s not perfect, it’s not pretty, 
It has its shadows and faults, bruises and weaknesses.

But it’s going to love selflessly and fearlessly, and find out what true love really is.