We take care of those who we love. 

Sometimes … that those should be ourselves, lest we forget.

But it always crept onto my lap again, clutched at my clothes. Until I thought, if I could kiss it, whatever in it was my own, perhaps I could sleep. And I bent to its broken face, and it was horrible…but I kissed it. I think one must finally take one’s life in one’s arms … and kiss it

Arthur Miller