Bruises

And so it is Rosalie, in pain, who is best able to cope with...well, pain. The aftermath is always the worst, because then you have to pick up the pieces of your former self. It is like a jigsaw puzzle. The interlocking pieces were perfectly assembled, but a storm scattered them away till nothing save a cardboard backdrop remained. It is our job to search for those missing pieces and restore the puzzle to its former glory.

Life doesn't hurt. Please, let's not get confused. People hurt other people. Life is fair in its own right. People aren't. Life will render its judgment and trust me, it will be fair.

But a bruised ego is far more painful and harder to heal than any wounds. We become an eggshell which has been beautifully cracked. A perfect mistake. And the pain is so great that its victims seek refuge in the black void of space, bereft of any life. But worst of all is the shattered image we have of ourselves. The porcelain dolls, so intricately sculpted, are now fractured on the surface. Deformed faces hide behind a veil, hoping the veil isn't pierced and their feelings revealed.

And so it is Rosalie, with a bruised ego, who is best able to tap into a well of talents and put her feelings down on paper.