Part 2- Fire Meet Gasoline

"Someday," I whispered into the phone, "Someday I'll remember how to fly without you,"

Talking into nothingness, it was comforting in some way, knowing no

one will judge, no one will care. In my entire life, I longed for a voice, a mentor, someone who will point me in the right way. I found it in her.

"You were my cure," another wave of tears washed through me and my shaking fingers reached for my cheeks, they were useless against the salty sea.

I could still remember her shivering beneath me, whispering her devotion. I could still feel her soft lips as she worshiped my body, claiming me in a way I longed to be. I wanted to be owned by her, I wanted to feel like her, I wanted to smell like her, I wanted our bodies to be one. I never realized how much I demanded of her. How much my cure became my addiction.

"You were my sweetest obsession," my voice cracked at the weight of my admission, my aching heart was beating out of control, and I knew, I knew that if a heart was a language, if the beatings were syllables, only one word would be sung over and over again, because the only letters my pathetic heart knew were her name.

"See, you're my cure. But I realized something, I was never ill until I met you"

Maybe it was a lie, blaming her for the crashing of my world was rough, especially after everything she has done, everything she made better, her eyes alone could make my fingertips tingle with the need of writing songs, the quirking of her mouth could make my legs run marathons, her laugh is the best symphony I heard. It wasn't her fault I became an addict. It wasn't her fault, maybe it was mine all along.