the flaw in my defenses

It seems, upon deep introspection, that a great many of my behaviors (and even traits) reflect an intrinsic level of vigilance and self-defense. My heart and my ego are exceptionally fragile pieces of my anatomy, and it seems the rest of me is dedicated to their protection.

I'm not a touchy-feely person in general: I never have been, and probably never will be. It is incomprehensible to me that friends should embrace each other as a casual greeting-- to me, these acts of overt affection are reserved for those I care for the most, and even then on special occasions (such as a great congratulations, or just before a long and painful goodbye, or upon return from such an absence). Touch is not to be taken lightly.

Although I am generally able to get along with people and be friendly enough, I am intensely particular about whom I genuinely want to pass time with, and in those select few I invest an enormous proportion of my energy. My ego being as protected as it is, they may not know how much they mean to me, but I do.

Some have been around for quite some time and I am confident that they will always be a great part of my existence-- whether they move away or I do, or we stay within city limits, we'll always be friends. That is wonderful. It is not generally the case.

I fall in love, all the time.  It is not necessarily romantic.  Although it's said that there is no upper limit to the amount of love one heart can produce, it feels as if it is straining against the workload. People touch my life without realizing it (or perhaps they do-- I can't tell if they don't tell me, and I feel like I can't explain myself without sounding like a fucking creeper lunatic), and all too often, they leave. They transfer to another job, or they move away, or both, or whatever it is they do, they leave. They take portions of my ragged heart with them, and it is not a clean excision.

Every time, I am broken. I can't help myself. I try so hard to heal up quickly and move on, and I tell myself not to let it happen again-- do not make yourself so vulnerable, do not open up, do not take such a vested interest, and above all, do not care. When I fall for someone, I recoil from their touch even more, and I revel in it, I crave it, but I recoil because the moment their skin touches mine it triggers something even more terrifying: I start to bond with them, and my heart swells in response. As little as a fist bump and it is like tiny barbs settling in place in my tissues. It feels great going in, but it hurts like hell coming out.

Try as I might to steel myself against this repetition, it never works, and I am constantly broken again.  It never really heals; the wounds merely compile and compound. The scar tissue simply becomes more brittle.

Try as I might to be aloof and indifferent, there is always someone to undermine the mechanisms of my defense.

Try as I might to tell myself otherwise, it appears it is simply in my nature to love wholeheartedly, even when I cannot bring myself to admit it.