Heart Bones

by Colleen Hoover

I think when you’re the worst of people, finding the worst in others becomes a survival tactic of sorts. You focus heavily on the darkness in people in hopes of masking the true shade of your own darkness.

I wonder what kind of upbringing is worse for a human. The kind where you’re sheltered and loved to the point that you aren’t aware of how cruel the world can be until it’s too late to acquire the necessary coping skills, or the kind of household I grew up in. The ugliest version of a family, where coping is the only thing you learn.

Sometimes I believe personalities are shaped more by damage than kindness. Kindness doesn’t sink as deep into your skin as the damage does. The damage stains your soul so bad, you can’t scrub it off. It stays there forever, and I feel like people can see all my damage just by looking at me.

Damaged people recognize other damaged people. It’s like a club you don’t want a membership to.

“You aren’t shallow,” I say quietly. “Shallow people don’t stare at the ocean as deeply as you do.”

“Because most of the time, the fun you have that leads to the pain is worth the pain.”

It’s slow and deep, like he might not survive if he doesn’t swallow a little bit of my soul in this kiss. He tastes like saltwater and my blood feels like the sea, raging and crashing through my veins.

I want to live in this feeling. Sleep in it. Wake up in it.

“People sometimes still drown in the shallow end,” he whispers.

I feel like a flower being taken out of the shadows and put into the sun. I’m blooming for the first time since I broke through the earth’s soil.

You can fill your life with nice things, but nice things don’t fill the holes in your soul.” “What fills the holes in a soul?” Samson’s eyes scroll over my face for a few seconds. “Pieces of someone else’s soul.”

“Don’t worry. Hearts don’t have bones. They can’t actually break.”

“If there’s nothing inside a heart that can break, why does it feel like mine is going to snap in half when it’s time for me to move next month? Does your heart not feel like that?” Samson’s eyes scroll over my face for a moment. “Yeah,” he whispers. “It does. Maybe we both grew heart bones.”

“We agreed this would end in August, Beyah. We agreed to keep it in the shallow end.” I roll my eyes. “You’re the one who said people still drown in the shallow end.” I lean forward until I have his focus again. “I’m drowning, Samson. And you’re the one holding me underwater.” I wipe my eyes angrily.

When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.