Chapter 1 : don't you let me go, let me go tonight.
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Disclaimer: I own nothing. Chapter title taken from the beautiful song 'Tonight' by Lykke Li. I definitely suggest giving it a listen when you have the chance!
One time my heart burst. Simple as that that. Burst—exploded—into a million pieces of glitter confetti, shimmering like sunlight on lake water, falling like furious summer rain. The force of my bursting heart was enough to rival that of an earthquake and a tidal wave and the dizzy, swirling sound of your laughter—all packed into one. It was heat and light and sound and believe me, I know this because I was there, I felt it.
My heart confetti melted away the snow and coaxed a thousand flowers out of the ground, fireworks blooming, plump petals unfurling like opening books, like fists letting go. Everybody was so amazed, they clapped and cheered and even gave the day a name: spring.
But you weren’t happy, because my heart was gone. Exploded. And without a heart, I couldn’t live and I couldn’t love you. I think those things go hand in hand, by the way. Living and loving you. I can’t do one without the other, and that is the sad and simple truth.
So. You tried to save it. Save me. You took a handful of that glitter confetti, and you poured it into a little tube that you gave to me. It's a kaleidoscope now, you said, and I pressed my dead saved heart to my eye and saw the silver flakes that used to live inside me, shivering like snow. The plastic pieces of my kaleidoscope knock around to this very day. They remind me that when it all comes down to it, a working heart is nothing more than a simple collection of colors.
I take my kaleidoscope with me everywhere I go. My bloodclots are made of glass, now. I have a pulse that sparkles.
What can we learn from this?
Well, first of all: whatever the science books tell you—it’s a lie. Spring does not happen because of climate change and the earth’s rotation. Spring happens because of glitter confetti and my bursting heart.
Second: there's no such thing as 'holding on' unless there is also someone else who is 'letting go.'
Third: Carrying your heart in your hand is better than nothing, sure, but you lose it a lot more often that way.
Here it is:
You are frozen in a long dead winter, your frostbitten inventor's hands building gadgets and knickknacks and always moving, always creating. I am stuck in spring. My frostbitten hands are still, and my kaleidoscope rolled away from me a long time ago. That doesn't matter, though, because this is not a story about my heart. This is a story about you saving me from death. This is a story about me keeping myself alive so I could love you.
This is a story about letting go.
And one day, we both know that it must snow again.
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