"You saved me."
It was as much a question as it was a statement.
"Yes."
Matter of fact.
"Why?"
Why?
Why did I save him?
Or why did I save him?
Or why did I save him?
Why? Why? Why?
What do you mean why?
How can you ask me why?
Why do you ask me why?
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
"Why?"
Because it was my turn to save you.
Because it was my turn to have your back.
Why?
If you survived even after Berlin, even after Syria, even after Islamabad and everything before that, what right did I have to take it away from you?
Because despite what you think, you were never full of darkness. You were the light that kept shining even though the rest of us tried crushing it out.
Why? Why?
Because you saved me from myself.
Because you let me soar and keep me tethered at the same time.
Why? Why? Why? Why?
Because the world owes it to you.
Because you deserve to be cared for.
Because they, we, everyone, left you with no choice and it is time you had one.
Because I need to see you smile and laugh and feel again.
Why?
Because you loved me.
And I love you.
"I'm sorry."
For using you and being no different than the rest of them.
For calling you back every time you tried to leave.
For never putting you before me.
For choosing to chase shadows rather than chasing after you and taking care of you.
For not trying harder to find you.
For giving up trying to find you.
For never taking the time to understand you.
For not crushing you against me and kissing you and telling you as soon as I saw you that it was a yes, that I loved you, that I wanted you and I wanted out.
For not learning from my mistakes and again using you, again giving you up.
For all this.
"I'm really sorry."
I'm really sorry I never told you any of this.
I'm really sorry I will never be able to.