100 Times Over

I am sentimental. A sentimental fool, if you will. With the ideals of a romantic and a heart that can’t take much more abuse, most of which I bring upon myself. So what happens when I am spent? When I really can’t take any more? And all I have left is an empty husk full of regrets? I take chances to not be cold, let myself go at times to thaw out. But what about the times that I need to be cautious? What happens when I should hold myself back but for the fear of freezing I throw it all away? What happens when I look back and sigh, having nothing more to say about the past? What happens if I make him hurt me?