She fears that she is becoming like Jane in Pride and Prejudice. Elizabeth is famously known for her words during her fight with Mr. Darcy, saying, "My sister hardly shows her true feelings to me!"
She feels as though this is becoming more and more true as the days pass. She is becoming a stone wall, unbreakable, unshakable. She feels as though the more she keeps in, the more she is protecting everyone else around her.
She can just imagine her family saying to themselves, "just as we think we've gotten over one bump, we run into another with her", shaking their heads and wondering what they've bitten off with her.
A big part of me knows that it's most unlikely, but there is still a part of me that wonders if these... misgivings... for that is what they truly are... these lies whispered into her ears by the enemy as he plots her destruction, might be, somehow, true. After all, the enemy does work in mostly truths with a small amount of deception.
She keeps waiting for someone to see through all these pretenses, waiting for someone to see her, the girl behind the mask, locked away inside of a cage, never allowed outside her tower for fear that next time, she might be destroyed.
She passes through life in a bubble, a shell if you will, moving through the options like a puppet with her master pulling her strings. Like sleeping beauty, she's slept most of her life away, waiting for the right one, or for her true loves kiss to awaken her. I see the sun rise every morning. I see it set every night. As the sun goes to bed, she wonders, "when will my life begin?" "When will I rise with the sun and stand proud, strong and sure?"
And then one day, an arsonist comes into her life and sets her frozen heart on fire. She fights against it, trying to pretend that it's not really there; it's not really happening. The arsonist turns into a bomb expert and realizes that she was just waiting to explode. With a steady, careful, slow hand, he begins to disarm her all while snipping wires as she is unaware. When he senses that the heart has become afraid, he repeats to her, "Slowly and softly, slowly and softly". Then he turns into an archeologist and carefully begins digging through her walls, the layers and layers of brick and stone that she has built up over the years. He digs gently, brushing away the loose dirt, and finds the edge of the wall with a skilled hand of a surgeon. Again, he repeats to her, as her walls come down little by little, "Slowly and softly, my sweet heart, slowly and softly". Once he has removed the walls and the bricks, he turns into a welder.
There seems to be a semi-permanent ache in her chest with a slight burn. In her mind's eye, she can see the spark and arch of an experienced and steady handed welder, welding these pieces of her heart back together again in the hopes that this time, they will stay together. She sees the welder, strong and courageous, bold and determined. She sees his eyes as he looks at her; she can only imagine the mess he sees. In his mind, he's thinking, "Alright, challenge accepted". He rubs his hands together, enthusiastic to begin his work. Before he can get started though, he first has to peel back the layers and break through her defenses. He finds that she is like an obstacle course, very similar to "Wipe Out", at every turn. Everytime he thinks he's gotten inside, she wipes his feet out from under him and he has to start all over. Again, as her defense flairs up like a scorpion's stinger, he says to her, "Slowly and softly. I'll wait for as long as it takes, until you tell me to stop. Slowly and softly". Like an archeologist, he keeps brushing away the dirt and lightly digging at the edges of the walls she had built, until, slowly but surely, the flower opens. It begins to blossom, spilling secrets, and with it, she reveals her heart; he is finally ready to begin his work. Painful as it might be for her, this will be his most amazing achievement in all his life.
She can see the art piece he is making: a heart, not made of stone, or metal, but of flesh and blood; it's a heart that is patched and still semi-broken, a heart that, while semi-healed, still bleeds. It's a beautiful piece, like a mosaic tile or a stained glass window, and it's beat gets stronger and steadier with every weld.
The broken side takes strength from the healed and patched side, and it also takes both courage and encouragement. She can see this art piece beginning to form, and she can almost see the artist's face shining with accomplishment and concentration, never stopping to think of himself as sweat runs down his face and covers the neckline of his shirt, all while he continues his welding. He is ever so careful and ever so gentle; he is always cautious but never timid, always soft and gentle, but never shy, and always kind, but never angry. He reminds her again, "Slowly and softly, no anger, no aggression, no frustration. Slowly and softly." He takes great care in his art work with his welding lines so perfect and straight; they are good thick lines made with the toughest and strongest welding rod that can be found.
With a slow, hot burn, he sears the heart back into place, and then goes back over the weld with a chisel and hammer, gently smoothing over the surface and making sure the weld is strong enough. When he comes to a weak point, he welds over it time and time again until it becomes the strongest point, then he chisels it, smooths it, and tests it again before finally moving onto another part of the heart.
"This piece", he says to himself; "This piece will be my shining glory, the most beautiful of all my art pieces, priceless and insurmountable".
And he's right. This piece will be his best work ever, his masterpiece. This piece will deserve it's place in the hall of fame, in the most prestigious museum of them all. It will make all other art pieces look dim in comparison. And there he will be, the faithful artist, always there watching over his most prized and most beautiful art work, never leaving her side, never letting her go. He will watch as she soars on wings like eagles, and he will be there when she lands. He will be there to pick her up and carry her when she falls down again. He will be there to help, always.