Author: Bennie
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing Roswell. And it's all about Roswell, have no doubt.
Character Focus: Liz, I think.
Spoilers: Only if you haven't been watching the same show I have.
Author's Note: Please note: there is an author.

Who says you can't die of a broken heart?

And really, what other kind of death can be as pure, as all-encompassing?

That's what zombies are, I think. They've lost that part of them, that essence that made their soul sing, and are simply bodies moving about, puppets on invisible strings, waiting for someone to cut the strings and let them fall, let them find oblivion.

Am I a zombie?

Sometimes I think so. Sometimes I feel like one, dull and uncaring, knowing only purpose, obeying what I am told or what I tell myself must be obeyed.

Other times I feel something else. Maybe this is why people dismiss a teenager's love as 'puppy love', as an infatuation, because eventually you get over it and move on, move on to new loves and new dreams.

A few dare to recognise more. Every now and then you hear someone sigh, and tell you "You never forget your first love," and you can tell that they're remembering theirs.

But does that really describe it? Because sometimes it burns. It makes me think of bitter poetry and religious people who preach about hellfire at 4am on obscure cable channels.

And at some point it happens - just when I think it can't get any worse, I feel something inside me change, and I feel this incredible exhilaration. It's rebirth, it's epiphany, it's the shrieking glory of a phoenix rising from the ashes of its own death to begin again, stronger.

At times like that I can take on the world. I can face my fears, I can dare to form new dreams and maybe even dare to believe in them. In possibility.

But I can't forget.

Once it happens, there's no going back. You can't undo a broken heart. You can heal, but a scar remains. You can forgive, but you can't forget, not entirely.

And you will never again know the purity of a first love.

Because it died.

It died, and you went on. Somehow, you went on.

You survived a broken heart.

But did you really?

Did I?

The End

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