To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries, avoiding all entanglements; lock it up safe in the coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless- it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. -C.S. Lewis
Though I’ve had my heart broken many, many times in the past, I’ve never had to choose to not love again. Scarred, yes, and disillusioned, but never dead to the idea that I would fall in love again, at some point. If I keep my heart in a casket, as C.S Lewis said, then yes, it would survive and not even see the sight of heartbreak or feel its sting. But what would it do inside a casket? Wouldn’t that also be a slow kind of death, unable to breath, unable to move, unable to do what it’s supposed to do? C.S Lewis is right; it will become impenetrable, irredeemable. And hearts do not deserve a stale casket of existence.
Which is why when people use the excuse that they’ve been hurt before or that something terrible has happened to them in the past, making them hold back and withdraw, I feel that somehow, they haven’t really put any closure to it and have possibly not learned. They’ve buried their own hearts to the grave, kept it away from the sun. Like hermits, they avoid entanglements and instead bury themselves in hobbies and personal endeavors. They get restless the moment they get close to somebody and all of a sudden, it’s the other person’s fault. Is it because they’ve been so hurt? I think it’s because they haven’t been able to let it go yet. They haven’t been able to deal with it and they let their past dictate their present. I feel that the only people who are afraid to love again are those who have not dealt with what they should have dealt with a long time ago. Somehow, someone’s got to move on and open that casket again. And somehow, someone’s got to be brave and vulnerable again. Vulnerability, I’ve often said, is beautiful. And so is honesty.