My heart was broken a long time ago. People I loved callously and carelessly broke it. Then it was broken again by other people, and again by circumstances, and again, and again. When my heart was broken the first time, it was like a big knife sliced it in half. Then another knife sliced one of the broken sides in half before doing it again to the other half. My precious, beautiful heart was broken into something unrecognizable, and it hurt so much. But I did not dismay, I knew it was not destroyed. And then, just as I thought, a set of hands came to fix my broken heart. They carefully fitted the pieces back together, gently gluing each piece into place and smoothing the cracks so my heart would be whole again. It didn’t look like it had originally, but instead was a repaired version of itself. It still looked like a heart, though, and I went on with my life, my fixed heart starting to beat again, it began to heal.
Just when I thought the cracks would smooth and my heart began to be whole, it was broken again. But this time, after the knife sliced through, my heart was smashed with a hammer, the broken pieces flying into tiny shards. It was nothing but a huge, unrecognizable mess. I cried with bitterness, thinking that it was too destroyed to ever be repaired again. There were too many pieces, and they wee too small. I thought my heart would just have to stay broken forever; nothing could put it back together now. I worried that even the hands couldn’t make it whole again. But they came again and slowly began picking up the tiny little shards. They took one piece and glued it to another, and then another, and before long, my heart was beginning to look like a heart again. But this time, there were so many pieces to put together that there was no way my heart would look like it was originally, or even like a repaired version of itself. There were so many pieces that it wasn’t even possible to get them all where they were to start with. It is different this time. All the little shards make it look different. They all catch the light and make different colors and shine light from different angles. It is not what it used to be. It’s still a heart, but a different one now. It’s starting to look like a mosaic now; a mosaic of me and everything I’ve experienced. It’s a mosaic of me and the one who repairs it.
The hands haven’t finished putting all the shards back in place yet, but they will. It will take time and patience. And when they do finish, I will have a new, more beautiful heart. And I know that if my heart breaks again, the gentle hands will make it new again, just like before. And at that time, I will be healed.
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