“Give her your broken heart and you will see her mend it in front of you. She whispers to it like a sprouting bud in tarnished soil that has been hounded and sheltered by shadows. She waters it with something more than affection – something like love – and teaches you how to care for it, again. Give her your broken soul and she will use pieces of her own to fill in the cracks because she’s convinced that she was put here to help people. She was put here to save everyone (besides herself). Maybe the idea that hearts and souls can be mended by blistered hands is a notion taught to her from a young age. Maybe sitting in the corner of her closet-like bedroom, window ajar and cool breeze kissing her neck when her hands were barely big enough to hold open a book, taught her that with grief and pain came beauty. With anger and sadness came love. She instinctively prepared herself for turmoil and despair even as a little girl who had wandering deep brown eyes, soft brown hair pulled up like a pineapple, and loose teeth dancing in the air with every sigh, giggle, and gasp at the end of a new chapter. That’s the kind of person she became: If you packaged your pain and wrapped it up and gave it to her, she would keep its weight on her shoulders for the rest of time, knowing that you would live free and happy without it.”
— about me [once upon a time] // n.b.
