It is true that your heart is all used up, and that most of your emotions have been burnt to smoke and ashes; but I still feel there’s something of a human left inside you. Whether I feel proud of that element of humanity, or sympathize with it, is still a question I haven’t answered.
And what can you salvage from this emotional wreckage?
You will find a few tattered, fluttering pieces of love somewhere, shivering in the wind; another few crooked, out-of-shape, rusted fragments of empathy trying to fight the heavy rains; and somewhere in this mess you will observe, shuddering in a dark and wet corner, the bloodied remains of trust.
You can pick and choose the battered emotion of your choice. You can even play with it, it won’t complain; there’s nothing left to complain anyways. You can break them further, just to see how far can emotions be actually broken; you can try molding them like clay, just to find out how much can emotions be bent.
I am sure you will be surprised by what you find…
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