I'm sorry. I'm sorry for letting you down, for letting you take the risk. I'm sorry for breaking you into a million pieces. I'm sorry for tearing you apart.
"Be careful," they try to warn me, saying it was not easy to mend broken pieces together. But no, this thing's so beautiful. This is feeling's too wonderful. How can such beauty hurt me? I want to keep going. I will keep going.
Why did it have to hurt? Why did it have to hurt so much? So much you thought you'd never recover again. He was supposed to be your hero, your savior, your protector, your knight in shining armor, your first and true love. But he left you alone, bleeding and barely breathing.
And so you built walls. Walls too high for anyone to climb. Walls thick enough to endure those shaking. Walls built brick-by-brick with words, with lies, with pain. Walls to keep yourself from all the cruelty, walls for your protection.
I feel so helpless; I can't feel your life anymore. It's like you stopped beating. Now you won't even let anyone in. You locked yourself away from anything that can hurt you, you locked yourself away from everything. You won't bring that wall down because you're afraid of hurting again. You believe that only you can protect yourself and you won't open up unless somebody proves you otherwise.
This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, dear heart.
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