Red Flags and Black Hearts

Red flags have waved me in like airplane marshallers for as long as I can remember. My need to “save” those who seemed to need it drove me into more devastatingly interesting situations than I can recall.

I’ve learned that the more you try to fix someone, save someone or think that you’re the answer to their problems, the more you become part of their flaw, their reason for failure, and soon you begin giving yourself away to feed someone else’s insane self destruction.

I’ve also realized that with that sort of negative co-dependency your own madness becomes tangible, you begin to see your own faults coming to light and now you may have to assess them. Which can be enlightening but it also may bear more weight than one can successfully carry.

I cannot refuse a good red flag. They’re usually so intriguing and weird and damaged and tragic but most of all,  beautiful. Most importantly, they can also hurt you. A lot. They’re dangerous to your soul and emotions and unless you’re very carefully guarded or wrap your heart in wrought iron, embracing red flags for more than just a tryst or a fling may be asking for more dark trouble than you can imagine.

What better way to accentuate your own perilous tendencies than to find someone who matches them? What better way to embrace your own harrowing personality than by finding someone who can either nurture you or outpace your transgressions?

Still, despite months of therapy and years of common sense, my radar for red flags is still on high alert and unfortunately I may be doomed to only find solace in those who tempt my attention by destroying everything in their path.

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