Once upon a time, as all the great stories start…
There was a girl. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, smart, or talented. She did have heart, an extremely sensitive heart. A curse given to her by a fallen fairy.
This heart was trampled on, cut out of, and taken advantage of. The girl was sick of it, so she built high gray walls. They made her look colorless, but people couldn’t hurt her, so it was alright. She kept her color to herself.
Years went by, and the girl thought that maybe people were getting kinder. So, she let the walls weaken. She let some guards take a break.
Along came a boy. Why yes, he was nice. At first, she was wary, so she patched up some her holes. But–the boy promised, he said things like I could never hate you or I would never hurt you on purpose.
As you can guess, that girl let him in. She broke a wall, and allowed him to see her heart, the color that was rampant inside. She told him things, about the people who hurt her. And in return, the boy showed her things she’d never known. He helped her.
And they lived happily ever after, right. Right? Wrong.
That boy left. He said goodbye and something about you are capable of being loved. What did that boy know of love? He didn’t.
He left with another piece of her heart.
She knew she could be loved. Did he think he was the first boy? No, there were others who left just like him. She wanted someone to love her and stay.
She didn’t see the mind games. All the tactics and lies. People warned her–lots of people–and she just laughed. She couldn’t believe them.
So now, the girl is sitting, building the walls back. She won’t make the same mistake twice.
There’s so little heart left.
She can’t afford another mistake.
It’s far from the end though; she’s learning that you cannot depend on people to give you a happy ending. You have to make them yourself.