Inside that room, my heart had bloomed. Never before was there a place. A place just for me. A place I felt seen and understood. A place where I dared to dream of a life just for me. Like a ticking time bomb, that door was going to close. It couldn’t close, not now, not before I finished dreaming. I desperately tried to stop it. But there was no use. That door was going to close. I tried to quickly gather everything I could. Memories, hopes and dreams. Could I bury them inside my heart? Could I keep them there as warmth for cold and lonely days? I had to try so I frantically stuffed it all into the crevices of my heart. Suddenly, that door slammed closed shattering my heart as it did. I collapsed on that floor and wept – for hours or maybe days. As my weeping quieted, I heard music from within that room. With that music, the pieces of my heart began to glow. And just like that, I began to pick up the jagged pieces of my heart. I paused as I noticed those memories, hopes and dreams among the pieces. And I thought, maybe, just maybe, they would be enough to keep me warm. Enough to ignite my heart again. Enough to give me strength. Enough to light the way.