Dear Heartbreak,
For the first part of my life, you were just a word to me. An arrow that would pierce the hearts of only others. And as time went by, the people around me were hit more and more by your shot. But still you ignored me. While others built their defenses up to protect themselves from you, I remained happy and ignorant to the threat you posed. But then you set your sights on me.
You must have noticed that I wasn’t ready for you, because your first shot was careless, just a graze. I thought nothing of it and continued my blissfully ignorant life. Then you pulled a second arrow from your cursed quiver. You aimed carefully this time, determined to hit your mark, and pierced my heart. A wound that still pains me even to this day. The arrow must have been poison, for it seems that your shot is darkening me; yet I do not have the strength to pull it out. I let your cursed arrow rest in my heart, paining me each day.
Then, you pulled back your dark bowstring a third time, hoping to finish me. But I was prepared. I donned armor so tight, no arrow could pierce it. And indeed, your shot just bounced off me, harmlessly. It barely affected me.
But you would not be denied your prize. You come to me almost every day and whisper foul words in my ear. You twist that arrow, that thrice cursed arrow, deeper into my heart. You try everything in your power to finish me. You may even fire another of your cursed arrows at me. But know this, foul creature, you will not prevail. I will hold strong in our seemingly endless struggle. You will not wear me down, you will not scare me off.
You will not win.