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by Jennifer Hartmann

Then again…maybe I wanted strings. Something to tether me. To anchor my floundering heart.

“Life is living. If you’re not living exactly the way you want to live, then what’s the fucking point?”

Everything was hollow. Everything except for my heart. And having an abundant heart in a hollow world was an affliction I was helpless to overcome.

But being jaded doesn’t come with age; it comes with hardship. And hardship can blow through like a stormfront, destroying everything in a blink. Five years old, fifteen, fifty. Doesn’t matter. Once you’re caught in the funnel, you never stop spinning out.”

The stars and moon had done him no justice, and I resented them for that.

True living was steeped in risk and adventure in spite of the consequences.

“Listen to me. When something breaks you, you pick up the pieces and put yourself back together. Maybe it’s with stitches and glue sticks, but it’s enough to keep going. Nobody needs to stay broken.”

When you’re always fearing the next moment, you tend to appreciate the good ones while you have them.

“Lost things don’t have to stay lost forever. They can be found.”

Human beings were so damn resilient. We saw color through blackened vision, latched onto hope in hopeless places, and loved with every damaged piece of our broken-down hearts.

Fear is a disease. It’s paralyzing. The only antidote is believing in your resilience.

“And then when I’d survived, I had to figure out how to live through that fear and pain going forward. And that’s the key—living through it, not in it. You recognize it, you channel it, you don’t try to smother it. There is no weakness in fear. You just can’t let it dictate your next move.”

But, in the back of my mind, I knew… Not all collisions left you rising from the ashes. Some just left you shattered, buried in the wreckage of your own mistakes.

I was a matchstick. Small, brittle, and unassuming. But I was only one strike away from igniting. And if I wasn’t careful…I’d burn us all to the ground.

She watched the movie. I watched her.

Now I knew what it felt like to really play with fire. And I was damn certain, that any day now, I’d go up in flames.

We were the paused frame in a film, a frozen moment. The slightest touch of our hands felt like color in a monochrome world. Rain on dry desert sand; sunshine melting the igloo around my heart.

He kissed me again, harder, more punishing, like he was cursing the air we breathed and the world that turned while we stood still.

I wanted to dance tonight, but I never expected this. I never expected his body pressed to mine, our fingers and souls intertwined.

We were a song that howled with arrhythmic heartbeats and a never-ending bridge. But I wanted us to be the chorus. The good part. The catchy part that stayed with you forever.

“I feel it, Comet. I do. But it’s not what you think.” His forehead fell to mine as he sucked in a fraught breath. “It’s a goddamn death sentence.”

“You just had to be so perfect. My white knight. My rescuer. You had to be everything I’ve dreamed about, every wish I’ve made on falling stars and birthday candles and pennies in mall fountains, and you had to make me fall in love with you.”

“Falling for you has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” I confessed through the anguish. “Everything else? Painful. Torturous. Difficult beyond belief. But loving you…” The anger died out, flatlining to a dead pulse. “Effortless.”

We would forever be a half-written song.

It was fascinating the way human beings tended to living things; how we could nurture something so fiercely, all while knowing it was going to die. Just a little more water, we’d say. Better sunlight. A silent wish for a few more good days. But it didn’t matter. Every hearty, thriving thing carried with it the certainty of an expiration date. Nothing lived forever. Even love. And still, we allowed it to bloom. We breathed life into it, while simultaneously whispering our last goodbye. Some goodbyes just came far too soon.

“Love is weak. Love is selfish. It’s not this fairy-tale illusion of candy hearts and paper flowers. It’s messy and painful. But it’s always worth it.”

Reed was a dazzling mural, a splash of watercolors in a sepia world.

“I know that forgiveness, growth, and understanding can be found in even the darkest circumstances. I know that love has power. Power to break and ruin, and power to rebuild.” She wiped away a tear. “I know that what is meant to be, will be. You can’t rush it. You can’t fake it. You just need to wait for the storm to pass and pick up the pieces when the time is right.”

All I could do was wait. Reed had given me a lifeline. But I wanted a lifetime.

We’re all capable of screwing up, but we’re all capable of forgiving, too.

I’d been lost once. Sometimes all it took was a helping hand to guide us in the right direction. To allow us to find ourselves again.