I’ve got just enough space left in my mostly-dead heart for them. My boys get a tiny sliver, too, and that’s about all I’ve got to give. Nobody else will ever squeeze their way in there. I just don’t have the physical or mental capacity for it, and I’m okay with that. Love is overrated anyway. You put all that time and effort into another person and then they die or cheat or leave or just otherwise turn into some kind of psycho and you’ve got to run for cover. The thought literally makes me nauseous.
