Open-Hearted

By Dorothy Love

Open Hearted, digital illustration, boy Roland

She has always been
an open-hearted person.

The one who stays
when it would be easier to leave.
The one who answers
even when she is already tired.
The one who feels the shift in a room
before anyone says a word
and tries to soften it
before it breaks someone.

She loved like it was instinct.
Like breathing.
Like if she gave enough of herself,
no one would ever have a reason
to hurt her.

She thought that was what good people did.
They showed up.
They carried things quietly.
They held people together
without needing to be asked.

So, she carried.
And carried.
And carried.

Until she did not recognize
how much of her
was gone.

Because no one tells you
what it feels like
to slowly disappear
inside your own kindness.

No one tells you
that people will take
what you give so freely
and never once stop to ask
what it is costing you.

She gave trust
and it came back to her
as whispers.

She gave support
when people were breaking
and when she needed someone
there was nothing.

Not even honesty.
Just distance.

She gave understanding,
space for people to be human,
to be imperfect,
to be forgiven

But when it was her turn
to be imperfect,
She became something else entirely.

A concern.
A story.
Something to talk about
instead of talk to.

And that is what hurts the most.

Not just what was said,
but what was not.

The absence.
The silence.
The choice to look at her
and not come closer.

She keeps thinking
if she had been less open
Less available
Less her

Would she have been safer?

Or just someone
She would not recognize in the mirror.

Because even now
after all of this
Her instinct is still
to reach out
to explain
to make it easier for everyone else
to understand her

Even when no one tried
to understand her first.

And maybe that is the hardest truth.

Being open-hearted
does not protect you.

It exposes you.

It makes you someone
people can lean on
but not always someone
they will stand beside.

So, she is still here.

Not empty.
Not closed.
But different.

Her heart is still open
but it is no longer
unguarded.

And that
is a loss
no one sees
but her.