They try to warn us early - wasn't it grade three science class? You can't uncook or unscramble an egg, separate tea from water once it's steeped, or unlight a match after it's been struck on the strike pad. It's not ruined, but it will never be the same. And then we grow up and see what they meant; you can't uncrack your chest, unfeel what you've felt, unsay what's been said, collect everything back up once the floodgate opens.
There was heart swell and heart swoon, and I can't fit back into my skin from before I knew you. It's not ruined. It's not. But it's too late, and it won't be the same.