Must it take a life for hateful eyes to glisten once again?

Like the picture of my meeting with Athus, this is an exact portrayal of a moment in my life, visiting Cyril's grave after Athus talked me out of following him on the longest journey. A yellow butterfly had landed on my hand while I stood in front of the gravestone- Cyril's fursona had been a golden wolf. Coincidence? Maybe, but either way, it meant a lot to me.

Pain can do a lot of things to a person- it can drive them to death, it can harden their heart and embitter them, or it can crush and destroy every wall around their heart- as it did with me. Every scrap of bitterness, arrogance, fear, hate... everything but my own beating heart was chiseled away by the pain I've endured, teaching me valuable lessons at far too dear a cost.