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.

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.

Home still feels like a mythical place I’ve been searching for my whole life.

Life is weird. One day you’re staring at your dead mother and a few days later you’re building a sandcastle on the beach by yourself in the dark with a dog named after a cheese.

“You been in the water yet?” “No. I’m kind of leery of it.” “Why?” “Jellyfish. Sharks. All the things I can’t see beneath the surface.”

Relatable

My voice comes out in a whisper when I say, “When I first met you on that ferry, I could tell you were damaged.” There’s a flicker of something in his eyes as he tilts his head to the right. “You think I’m damaged?” “Yes.” He moves even closer in the water, but there wasn’t much space left between us to begin with. It’s deliberate, and so much of me is touching so much of him now. “You’re right,” he says quietly, slipping a hand around the back of my left knee. “There’s nothing left of me but a fucking pile of debris.” He pulls me to him, wrapping both my

legs around him. That’s all he does, though. He doesn’t try to kiss me. He just connects us together as if that’s enough while our arms keep us both afloat.

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

Maybe you don’t have to know a person’s history to realize who they are in the present.

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.”

I want to melt into him. Become a piece of him. I want to see if I make the inside of his chest feel as alive as he makes mine.

“When you say things like that, it makes me dread when we have to say goodbye. I wasn’t expecting to end the summer with a broken heart.” Samson tilts his head, looking at me with complete candor. “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.”

I’ve never felt more appreciated than I feel right now. Not only appreciated, but savored. Respected. Wanted. Maybe even loved.

“I’ve never felt more myself than when I was with you that summer. That’s exactly who I want to be. Forever.”