My heart and I could never agree. It seemed sworn to stubbornness from the very beginning. The things it desired were always distant and difficult. The words it whispered to me were misleading and troublesome. I knew I had to give up on my heart, even if it suffered, even if it clawed at my chest like a restless child, even if it turned my nights into hell, even if it prepared depression and pain for me. I knew the heart leads a person to ruin and darkness. Especially my heart, which couldn't see the path ahead, which failed to understand the wounds my soul endured to reach its desires. My heart was blind; it couldn't see that to fly into the sky, one needs wings more than anything else. And I was born without wings
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