Strings
The strings that keep the heart together.
When a human is first born into this world, their little heart is fragile and small, which would never be able to prevent itself from breaking if it wasn't for the strings keeping it together.
Every single human at birth has a set of strings, that come from nearby, that perfectly restrains their heart from falling into pieces, because hearts are exactly like puzzles, shaped by small pieces of feelings. Emotions and other important qualities that form a heart, are the result of the pieces being put together. But unlike a puzzle, a heart is far too fragile to remain balanced without something holding it together.
Some of these strings are physical, like the string connecting a human to its caretaker at birth, a cord that allowed the human to receive sustainment and nurture, while some are invisible to the eye, and can only be seen around the heart.
Some humans don't have external strings supporting them; they're born with their own, left to take care of their heart in solitude, until eventually a chance of finding another string may appear, or not.
But one thing that will always be there, is the string, no human is born without string, without the ability to keep their heart together.
Those that aren't born with one, are those that never woke up from their birth.
Strings are the protector of the human most of the time, caring, nurturing, and gently remaining strung up. They don't pull too hard, in order for the heart to not break, and by keeping it together, it gradually grows stronger, and less frail, obtaining more resistance from being snapped.
Some hearts will always remain frail, yet strings will always be there to keep them together.
Sometimes, the strings at the start of a life may pull a little too hard, perhaps making some mistakes in order to properly keep it together, but always end up learning and eventually improving, until the heart is ready to move on, to find more strings.
Not every string is perfect, after all.
But there are cases, cases that grow more common every day, where the strings pull a heart very hard, painfully, pulling and ripping, causing the frail heart to crack further, to break slowly. And these type of strings are everywhere over the world, even those that apparently look kind and helpful, may be painful strings to an innocent heart, these are the strings that refuse to improve, strings that take their frustrations and hatred on a heart they were supposed to protect.
Sometimes the strings separate, and the heart is pulled by two different sides, over and over, until the strings and the heart break in two pieces, other times the heart is pulled towards a string creating knots all around it; like a cage for a little bird which the heart struggles to escape from.
Cutting the string apart is the only way out to escape the knot and be able to attach to other strings.
Otherwise, the knot will squeeze the heart until it breaks.
It may cause further pain, like scissors cutting a heart in two and despite all of that, the cracks remains, the scars are still visible, sometimes cutting the painful string may drag the heart into an even deeper pain, while sometimes, the heart manages to heal, although now the heart will be wary of new strings.
The memories of these past strings are a close image in the mind, always there to be remembered, the memories of the strings never stopping the pull and devour the heart, plastered in the mind like a taunt.
The scars of the strings are still visible on the heart.
Over time, the heart of a human may find more strings that attach to it, Strings that are all different in ways of support, starting from a small number to a bigger one, or a big number to a small one, or remaining consistent.
And for a while, a human may achieve happiness, with a half broken heart or a happy healthy heart being kept together by kind strings, some that energetically pull it, some others that pull kindly, not too hard, others that may also need your help pulling them back, strings of all kinds, that are all surprises.
What's important is the presence of the strings, knowing that they are there and aren't letting go, they give a heart strength, support it, or their presence is enough to give joy.
Yet.
Everything may go well in the beginning, but soon enough, things may change.
The strings may begin to break, wither, and shake, as the pull becomes weak, neglectful, or completely disappear, as the gleeful cheers turn into silence and whispers.
The heart may try to mend the broken strings, with tears, hopes, kindness and begging, pouring a piece of their being to restore the strings together, to not lose what it cherishes the most.
But no matter the efforts, the strings may break, and fall, and with them the heart falls, crashing in pieces on the cold floor.
The tears and the screams do nothing, as the damage was complete, they where all gone, and the heart was alone again, with the permanent image of the strings leaving.
The feeling of each String breaking is as painful as a knife being impaled in one's chest,
Every single String that broke, is just like that feeling, a haunting memory.
I don't need you anymore
I'm just bored of you, I found other people
You're whiny and annoying
Just disappear forever
You're pathetic and worthless
One after the other.
The heart lost its colours, now painting the floor with a red liquid, it was the end of the strings, the heart was torn apart.
The voices will long in their head for days, months and years, repeating the sounds of the strings breaking, of the words muttered by those strings while the heart is desperately trying to put itself back into place.
It will never be the same shape, or lose the cracks that it gained, the permanent stain of those memories will remain
The heart is now barely keeping itself together, being stitched up forcefully with its tears and pains being trapped inside like a marbles jar, with its fears and emotions bottled up, in fear of being hurt.
It will burst at any moment, it will be even more frail than before, it's terrified.
But now, now that the heart is pieced back together again, when a string will attach itself to it, when everything will seemingly start being better…
A little voice will begin speaking in the mind.
"Are they going to tear us apart again?
Don't tear us apart
I'm scared.
Will they leave?
Do they hate us?
I'm sure they do.
Please don't go…
Stay"
Knots will create around the heart, this time pulling desperately the other strings together, knots of kindness, knots of favours, appreciation, neglecting the heart for other strings.
They don't want to be alone again, never again.
The knots won't be enough, the voices will never leave.
The cycle continues.
Just like how a string can be pulled back over and over again infinitely, and break what's attached to it.
The strings will never care.
It's a pattern that won't ever end.
…
Can you hear them?
They're probably whispering about you.
Talking about how useless you are.
You think that the voices are telling you lies, but you'll end up believing them,
The strings will break.
There's no escape from the cycle.