Thinking of the heartache I had to endure my heart just swells up and I feel that it can burst anytime. Was I naïve? Well, maybe but I kept on telling myself that I was loving. William Shakespeare was my daily bread, I gave and gave until I had nothing more to give. I was hurt repeatedly that I ended up not feeling the pain anymore. Did I lose my sanity, not really, for sure my self-esteem was scattered on the tar road .Funny enough cars and people were stepping on it every day and I did not see it. All in the name of love I had lost my self-confidence and my pride. Being worthy was taken away from my soul by a selfish and cruel heart. I was hypnotized into believing that love is powerful and can withstand any situation. For me it was the opposite actually, after every ounce of energy, dedication, devotion and loyalty. I was rewarded with the most demeaning thank you gift. I was made the example of for the whole world to see how cruel hearts can be. It hit home for me when I realized that I was the laughing stock of the world, that all my loyalty and commitment had been futile. My eyes were opened by a harsh reality I had woken up into. The realization that no matter how much I have sacrificed and given was not good enough to let love live in the communion I was in. Because my heart had so many stiches and were not even healed, actually they were not going to heal but I had allowed to rekindle the love that once lived there. It was to my surprise when the salt and vinegar was sprinkled into my recuperating heart that I felt enough was enough. I had to let go because what I was holding on to was slowly destroying me. The hands I was using to hold on with were cut deep that I could feel my veins getting sliced. I had to let go so that I can have functioning hands again. My heart was no longer feeling the pain but my body was getting damaged. I didn’t want to appear as a Frankenstein monster to the public. Even though what had lived in the heart was tarnished, I had to appear normal to the world. My scars are very sensitive because they are not on the outside but on the inside. I always look in the mirror and I can’t find them because they are buried in my long memory. I had learned to seal that part of my life with a concreate cement. Also I have grown to understand that something that doesn’t grow or embrace you, you have to let it go. My hands now are free to accept and to hold on to whatever is worthy to be massaged. My heart has started pumping enough blood to my veins .I feel alive again, to enter the Common World Marathon without a hesitation. This heart of mine has a lot to give and the physiotherapist has cleared me to proceed my handwork. The blood that pumps from my heart to my brain has enabled me to be mentally strong.