Castles

So a friend told me this story a few nights ago. We were talking, joking, and somewhere along the way the conversation turned serious. At that exact moment it fit my frame of mind and almost brought me to tears. No way can I capture that moment but I can tell the story...

A man gets up on the soapbox in the middle of the town square. He shouts to the passersby "Would you like to see the most beautiful heart in all the world?" After a crowd gathers to view what he was speaking of, he unbuttons his shirt. There on the man's chest was the most beautiful heart, bright red, luminous, perfect in every way, no scars or bruises. The crowd oohed and awwed over this vision in front of them. They approached him, wanting to touch his beautiful heart. The man quickly became guarded, closing his shirt and yelling at them to get back. 'No one can touch me there, you'll fade it, scar it. It's beautiful, but no one can touch it.' He runs away before anyone gets too close. A feeble old man walks to the front to take the young man's place. He says to the crowd "Would any of you like to see the beauty of my heart?" Everyone stares as the old man unbuttons his shirt to reveal his heart. They gasp, it's faded, covered with nicks and scars, a large piece is actually missing. He points to the scars "My heart was not guarded. Allowing people to touch it they left there marks, I've loved and lost and loved again. This piece that's missing? I gave it to my wife when she died." He invited the crowd to him and let them touch his scarred, battered, beautiful heart.

When he told me the story I knew which was better, which was right. At that moment I knew, and friends are funny to say the thing you didn't know you needed to hear. After careful examination of my own heart and over thinking it like I do everything, I know that I'm that latter of the two. You know us, the one's who wear our heart's on our sleeves and stupidly let go. Still I'm having a hard time anymore believing that the first guy isn't better off.