Chapter 7

I didn't have a heart.

So I was not worthy of loving anyone, or being loved.

Nightmares kept me up all night, hurting so bad I could barely stand it.

Because of all the online drama, my teacher told me to cancel my plans for the next few days.

I drifted through the days at home, barely aware of what was happening.

When I got up to wash my face in the morning, I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The pajama neckline was low, revealing the small tattoo below the collarbone. Neatly styled, it featured a heart and [Jimmy].

Whenever I stepped outside, it was always carefully hidden beneath my clothes.

All these years, no one but myself would ever know. Like my sincere heart, hidden in the shadows, once burning intensely. Yet I had never held it out for anyone to see.

After everything I'd been through, I couldn't bring myself to love anyone anymore, or say the word "love".

I used to say out loud that I loved my grandma. But in the end, I left her all alone, and she waited for me in vain for seven years.

Then I loved my mom. I hand-sewed a scarf for her for New Year's, stitch by stitch.

But all I got in return was a slap and her cursing me out for wasting my time on something she thought was meaningless.

And after that, I tried to love my dad.

What was gained was the most sordid fact.

After I broke up with James, I spent a long time reflecting on our relationship.

I realized that maybe I did love him.

I broke down and cried when he got into that car accident.

When I won the Gold Award, the first person I wanted to tell was him. I traveled through the night for over ten hours to reach the city where he was working.

Though I was allergic to anesthesia, I still endured the pain to get his name tattooed on my skin.

But I could never give him that loving look, or bring myself to tell him I loved him. The burning heart he placed so carefully in my hands, I let it cool, little by little, until it turned cold.

He'd tell me he loved me, all excited and passionate, but all I ever felt was emptiness inside.

Maybe there was something wrong with me.

After I broke up with James, Nathan Hayes helped me find a therapist, and I went to see her a few times.

It was only later that I realized that I wasn't normal after all.

The doctor said I had emotional detachment disorder, a real psychological condition.

Emotional detachment meant I was slow to feel or react to emotions.

I underwent treatment for a long period of time.

And over time, I actually started to feel some shame for airing my worst moment in public when I was nineteen.

Thankfully, I looked so different from how I did at nineteen.

After all these years, nobody recognized me anymore.

The anxiety never left me.

It wasn't until a few days ago, after my teacher talked me into it, that I finally took off my mask on stage for the very first time.

After all that therapy, I finally started to understand why James questioned me and felt so disappointed back then.

No one could keep pouring out their love for so long and never get anything back.

But I did try to respond to him in my own way.

I didn't get it back then.

So all those things I did for James in secret, I never mentioned them. I thought there was no need to bring them up.