Heart Bones

by Colleen Hoover

Sometimes I believe personalities are shaped more by damage than by kindness. Kindness doesn’t sink as deep into your skin as damage does. Damage stains your soul so bad, you can’t scrub it off.

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

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.”

“If there’s nothing inside a heart that can break, why does it feel like mine is going to snap in half when I move? 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.”