once upon a time, there lived a heart. she resided deep within a body, breathing beating brooding; she existed.
now this heart, she [i call her a she because this heart, she is a soft one, and females are generally softer than males] was not a whole heart. she was recovering from hurting some other heart because she was hurting from a hurt which happened some heartbreak back, and this hurt made her unconsciously hurt the some-other heart.
unexpectedly, along came Today, which is technically a Yesterday now because Today happened many months back, and Today brought with him the lights of Tomorrow, which became promises of Tomorrow as time went by.
the healing of the heart sped up, and she lived laughed and loved – fearfully, uncertainly, cautiously, but lived laughed and loved she did. at times she caught glances of Forever with Today, which scared her because she has never seen him before and he is, in the heart’s eye, ever so grand, unbelievable and unreachable [but in truth Fairy God-Forever was a wise gentle being, really].
however as non-fairytales go, one day Tomorrow never arrived with Today and Fairy God-Forever went away with him. the little heart fell apart and embarked on a lonely journey to find them, but ended up lost in neverwhere.
while meandering her way around neverwhereland, she met many different voices who stopped by to talk to her. these voices, she cannot say much about them because they remain mysteries to her, like how there are always mysterious characters in non-fairytales. the voices told her many things, making her increasingly confused and pained about her yesterdays with Today, causing her steps to falter, causing her to fall down repeatedly. hard.
still the valiant little heart struggled on, in the neverending neverwhere. searching, wanting, wishing and never getting.
poor silly little broken heart. nobody ever told her that the only way out is for someone to really kill her physically, not that she is very hap-hap-happily alive now, but well.
many yesterdays ago, Today mentioned the hatred of a dead heart [??]. but irony is as irony goes – the process of it is created by all that have happened. because of that one chance. letting the heart think they have a chance, along, letting her liveand then.. and there is nothing worse in the world than making one believe [s]he has a chance when [s]he really doesn’t.
so the death of the heart is the heart’s fate [the mind is elected to kill her], and here endeth the story of a heart that has loved [not well, but] ever so deeply but has to die, happily never after.