My heart was put up for adoption. It wasn’t my choice. They said I wasn’t suitable to take care of it anymore. The heartaches, broken friendships and sadness of losing loved ones, they weren’t good for the organ. My unhappy feelings had but the poor thing into an unhealthy state. So they put it up for adoption.

I really didn’t know what to say. I wanted to keep my heart; I promised to take better care of it, but they said it was too late.

I was sad, but that made things worse for my heart. it would go to a good home, I kept telling myself. It deserved a good home, a better home.

It didn’t take long before they found a suitable home for it. A child, born with a bad heart, waiting for a transplant. Mine was a perfect match.

I couldn’t really complain, the child deserved my heart more than I did. She deserved a chance at life.

I would miss my heart. All the good times we had. If only I had taken better care of it. If only.

The day came for my heart to go to it’s new home. I met with the little girl to hand it over. She was so happy she was finally getting a new heart. I smiled.

“Take good care of this heart,” I said, “It deserves nothing less.”

“I will,” she promised.

I watched them leave together. I thought I would cry. Then I realized I couldn’t. How can you feel without a heart?