Disclaimer: I own nothing; not Artemis Fowl, nothing, excepting my own crooked heart.
If everything is made to be broken, how do you protect your heart?
Because, surely, your heart is the most breakable thing of all? A single word can smite it beyond repair – or so it seems. Somehow, when you least desire it, when it seems impossible, a "broken" heart can heal.
We each have broken hearts – but somehow, after what seems like forever, they've finally healed. What was severed has scarred over – and so well, too. The "scar" is barely discernible, and these days, neither of us look close enough to see it.
We thought a broken heart was something you could put away in the darkest safe; something you could forget about, something you could lose.
But after all that, when you least expect it, when your very core fights against it, that heart will heal, will scar over...and how do you explain to your heart that what it lost is still gone; that what it feels now is only a memory of wholeness?
How can you explain to a heart that what it feels now is phantom pain, the memory of something long lost?
And how can you tell yourself that when you can feel that memory of love, the thing you cast away to the deepest part of hell within yourself?
Everything is made to be broken – and everything is meant to be healed – but nothing can ever heal straight, even if the surface is as flawlessly perfect as before.
Much less our crooked, broken hearts.
Sorry for the long delay - more will follow, I promise.
