There was something about her- something unfathomable, that the naked eye would just look at and actually think that what they’re looking at is something well adored, but beneath those layers of well perfected facade, was a girl who buried her fears and insecurities on her own. The shovel was still in her hand, and her face was caked with the dirt she gathered from her lonesome journey as she told herself to be strong; to grow stronger with each passing day. What was it about her, that when you look at her, at first glance, all you could think of was, “She looks so heartbreaking,” and then you take another step closer and realised that she was just scared. She was terrified of what might come to her. So she distanced herself from the world and indulged in the numbness, the powerful swelling inside her that ruled majestically. How could her own body betray her? How could her own feelings betray her? Nothing else could be said to her to fix what was broken or to make her dig up her old scars because the key to all of that, she, had brilliantly swallowed.

She knew not to trust anyone, but along came this sparkly boy who looked promising- who seemed as if he fitted her like a swarm of bees in their nest. He was broken too, but she was the one who needed to be saved, away from him. She could not see it at first, because she was flooded with so much joy, that she forgot of her pain and for some time, it felt good to be iridescent. Then she remembered the tale of the Red riding hood, and ran, because the sweet boy, whom she pictured she would have spent the rest of her life with, turned into the monstrous wolf that her grandmother warned her about. She knew better now, she knew better than to talk to strangers, ever again.
And you wonder, when you look at her, “What is it about her that looks so heartbreaking?” and the answer came,

“It was that boy.”