Why? Must a heart be so fragile? Why does it have to be delicate? If only our hearts were not there in the beach sand. If only they were not craved out with a stick, waiting for the ocean to come and wash them away. Our hearts are just like those ones, drawn for a moment, but can be washed away, and destroyed forever. It’s on the edge between happiness and sadness; it’s up against a fight frequently lost.
And then we have to take an unwilling step back to glance at the real situation. Our hearts are so breakable. And I don’t understand why, its one of the strongest muscles in our body. It should act like the strongest, but no. Instead, it chooses to torture us with fake love and shattered hopes. It is completely unfair.
But, of course, we always take that stride back. We choose the road with a fork in the way. And that fork, one symbol, represents whether we outlast love, or whether it wins over us. And unfortunately, most of the time, it triumphs to prove the realism is nothing but artificial.