Shadow Me (Shatter Me, #4.5)

by Tahereh Mafi

My brain hurts.

🫂

I force myself to smile, to unclench the tightness in my face that would otherwise default too easily to anger.

I’m lonely but I’m not alone. My body works, my brain works, I’m alive. It’s a good life. I have to make a conscious effort to remember that. To choose to be happy every day. If I didn’t, I think my own pain would’ve killed me a long time ago.

Everyone thinks I’m not supposed to give a shit—that I shouldn’t—but I do. I always do. And I give a shit about this asshole, too.

I’m so happy for my friends. I love them, even when they piss me off. I care about them. I want their joy. But it still hurts a little when it feels like, everywhere I look, everyone seems to have someone. Everyone but me.

Instead, I’m a big, raw, bleeding heart, and I spend my days pretending not to notice that I want more. That I need more. Maybe it sounds weird to say, but I know I could love the shit out of someone. I feel it, in my heart. This capacity to love. To be romantic and passionate. Like it’s a superpower I have. A gift, even. And I’ve got no one to share it with.

I love how empathetic she is. I love how she feels things so deeply that sometimes even joy manages to wound her. It’s who she is. She’s all heart.

Because it’s not the pain that’s unendurable. It’s the hopelessness. It’s the hopelessness that makes you reckless.