Heart Bones

by Colleen Hoover

I wonder how many six-year-olds have to teach themselves how to work a stove

I feel like people can see all my damage just by looking at me.

It’s as if I adopted myself when I was a kid and have been on my own since then.

She has a good energy. Sometimes I feel like a black hole around her. Like maybe I’m sucking all the life out of her by just being in her innocent presence.

I don’t know what makes me happy. I’m kind of curious about it, too. I’ve spent my whole life just trying to survive; I’ve never really thought about the things that lie beyond that. Getting a meal used to make me happy. Nights when my mother didn’t bring home strange men used to make me happy.

Ocean therapy has worked wonders for me so far and it’s free.

I know what love is, because I spent my whole life knowing what it isn’t.