Heart of Gold

I used to have a heart of gold.

It wasn’t anything special; it didn’t have diamonds or rubies or pearls encrusted into it, it wasn’t on a silver stand for all to see, and it didn’t have etchings of Greek goddesses or ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics detailing epic battles.

In fact, I dare to say that even the most influential jewelers of our time would have looked upon it and sneered in disgust, offended that this “ugly mishapened mound”would even be in the same continent as their priceless works of art.

But it was my heart, and I was proud of the fact that it was simple, that it didn’t need jewels or embellishments for me to appreciate it.

So I showed it off every chance I could by helping people when I thought they really needed it, not disrespecting others even when I should have, and being a gentleman to anyone who deserved it.

I thought I was doing the right thing.

But I was wrong.

Girls abused my generosity and took small pieces of gold from me any chance they could, even stealing it if they had to.

People who felt that I shouldn’t have anything good in life threw dust and mud all over what was left, tarnishing it in the process.

“Friends” whom I’d been loyal to the whole time I’d known them stabbed me in the back, scratching and denting it to where it looked horrible.

Family who should have supported me through it all instead doused it with gasoline, saying I’d deserved what was happening.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the one soul I swore would always keep me sane and never do me wrong abandoned me at the moment I needed them the most, throwing a lit match behind them as they did so.

The match ended up engulfing my heart in flames, melting the last bits of gold away, and turning what was left to ashes.

Now, if you were to ask what I had, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.

Tee remains have since been washed away by my tears of self-degradation, my beliefs finally matching the truth that others have known for years, that I am not worthy of even the ugliest of the precious stones and gracious metals that occur naturally in our daily lives.

Some people ask for that caring sould they once knew to come back, either because they miss the smiles I had or because they want to take advantage of me further.

But how am I supposed to be compassionate and kind when the thing that made me so has been destroyed by the very people who now want those same traits to return?

And I can’t use someone else’s, because it was made for them, not me, and everyone else has fancier and much more elaborate types than I ever had, made of all kinds of materials.

Stronger metals like steel, titanium, and platinum.

Gemstones like sapphires, emeralds, and amethysts.

Designs like poker card symbols, astrological signs, and loved ones’ names.

I was never worthy of things like that before.

And I never will be again.

I used to have a heart of gold.

Now, I don’t even have that.

Because I’m not worth it.