I can’t afford this heart; still I’m responsible if it will fall apart. Belive me, I don’t want to go…ย 

(Moa Lignell)

As I got into his car, I was once again struck by the overwhelming physical beauty of Hero. That perfect boyish smile, the great skin tone, the thick hair, the perfect symmetry of his athletic body. (How can someone so beautiful be so wicked! Doesn’t that defy god’s plan, if He has one?)

Hero greeted me in a lighthearted tone. In his mind he had erased the fact that weeks had gone by, without a word between us.


His winning smile was meant to conceal that fact. He had only reached out the weekend before this one, and started working on getting me to see him, this particular weekend. Besides the winning smile, he even made the effort of throwing in a little lie, in his usual manner.

He had been trying to get a hold of me every week, for the last three weeks, he claimed. (That is simply not true, I only received e-mails in a cluster in the last week, not at all spread out over 3 weeks).

If I was to go along with this, this.. charade, that he was playing, (that he had missed me so terribly), I would have to DO something. Distract my all too clever brain from the obvious lie.

The heart was in control of the events, this evening. Drinks at his house it was, so we could both just forget the fact that we ought to have a long discussion about all this, and instead press the reset button and give in to our old passion.


The simple fact that he hadn’t cared enough to reach out in 2 weeks, oddly enough didn’t make me hostile. But still, it was an unbearable thought, that he cared so little.

I told him that by morning I would need an answer: What the hell did he intend to do to repair things between us, and my trust? To make a mends for the insane amount of pain he had caused me? How did he intend to do that? The night and morning came and went, with some tenderness, fun, talking. And.The.Incredible.Sex. (Of course it had to be the best. Ever. Sigh).


I want you to know that I am not as easily fooled, as it might seem here! Hero can not “trick me” anymore; he wears me down instead. In the weekend before this encounter, Hero had created new e-mail accounts, to bypass my blocking of him. He had e-mailed me short e-mails, at no less than 7(!) different occasions in a week. From that weekend and up until I yielded and agreed to see him this particular weekend. So it took him a week to convince me. I can usually resist one or two hoovers, but he always keeps on contacting me, until I yield.

The morning after The.Sex.From.Heaven, he held me so tightly to his chest. Laying with my head on his chest, his strong arms around me, the intoxicating smell of him… It was like coming home. There is no other way to describe it.

He said we were like two pieces of a puzzle, the way we fitted together so perfectly in the embrace. (This is true, oddly enough, I’ve never felt so comfortable in anyone else’s arms: it really is as if though our bodies would have been formed from one mold and then cut in two halves).


Naturally the conversation with him in the morning was like banging my head against the wall. He had no straight answers as to how he wanted to repair things between us. Only vague answers, like he “wants things to work out”, he “wants me to be happy, of course”. He does not know how to fix things between us, but he really wished he knew, etc etc. He had no suggestions at all, simply that he wanted us to “be fine”.

I was exhausted in the end, by not getting anywhere. Going in circles. He apologized and said that he is so “bad at this”, speaking about feelings. He said he wished that he was more like me.

So all in all, gain for the narcissist, pain for the other person (yours truly). He didn’t have to give any answers. He got some admiration or attention, some sex, and now he would be content and not have to contact me for another 3 weeks! Whilst I would have a broken heart all over again, after being used in this way. I told him that I know what he is, and that I am tired of all this, being one of the toys on his shelf.


He protested mildly that he did have feelings for me and blah blah. Whatever. You can lie to yourself but not to me anymore, I thought. I told him I would never read anything, e-mails/letters, ever again from him. I told him not to contact me anymore. (How many times have I said that by now? 100 times?). I’m sure he just thought to himself: “Yeah, sure, whatever you say, uhm, OK, so I’ll get in touch with you in 3 weeks again, when I’m feeling a bit lonely”. The unimaginable bastard! That I love. Loved. Oh hell, my heart betrays me!


This is why I can’t afford this rebellious heart any longer. The cost of loving the narcissist is way too high. I will pay with my sanity, or even my own life. Luckily I have a brain that will help me find a way out. And a soul inside, who cries at me that it has been mistreated for too long, all its values, beliefs and strengths violated, and now it demands an end to that.

But.. The heart wants what it wants. How I wish that there was a way to fix things! For the longest time, I tried to mend the core wounds in Hero, the wounds that must have been inflicted on him as a child. By loving him endlessly, forgiving him hundreds of times when he had done the unforgivable. Trying to get him into therapy which he refused.

In the end I had no choice but to leave, to save myself. And ever since then, he has “stalked” me, and sometimes managed to convince me to come and see him.

But even this “semi-relationship” is killing me! I do love him, but can not survive on crumbs alone. I wish he could “wake up”, and see the worth of my love. That he is throwing away something precious like it’s yesterday’s newspaper.

But he will never wake up. He lives on in his dream world and the fiction of himself as the ever winning Hero. Maybe some time when he is older, reality will knock on his door in the form of old age and loneliness.


Meanwhile, I am left here, with all this love that I don’t know what to do with. A merciless sword, in the form of a thought: This is how little he truly cares. The sword cuts through me, day and night.

I can’t afford this heart.

And Here Is The Song