When you allow someone a relationship with you that is deeper and more intimate than an association of material or social benefit, you let them into your many lives. You allow them the belief they have at least some rights over you. You allow them to exert these rights. You give these rights over yourself to them.
You allow them access to your physical, intellectual, and emotional beings. You let them occupy space inside your inner sanctuaries. Inside those portions of you that you would perhaps hold closed and unshared otherwise. And this someone then begins to become more than a part of you. They begin to spread all over your space, all over you. They begin to become an extension of you. In matters of the world, they begin to extend, duplicate, replace, and substitute for you. They start to become you.
And then, one day, someday, if they happen to leave, as people sometimes do, they take away with them much of this. They take away this version of your life, this version of you. This piece of you.
“Every failed relationship takes away something from you—a piece of your heart that cannot be replaced by anyone new.”
(c) Mickey Kumra