Heart Bones

by Colleen Hoover

I hear people talk about good men, but I’m starting to think that’s a myth.

My negative feelings toward him come from all the experiences I didn’t have with him.

Kindness doesn’t sink as deep into your skin as damage does. 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.

“And I won’t kiss you again. Not unless you ask me to.”

I wish I knew more about relationships and love and all the things I used to think I was too good for, or maybe not good enough for.

You can fill your life with nice things, but nice things don’t fill the holes in your soul.”

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 I move? Does your heart not feel like that?”

Maybe we both grew heart bones.”

We have been alone on islands our whole lives.