I am not me without you.

As the months unraveled and showed themselves, my days slowed: time stretched and dragged, they stopped and paused. And so did her visits.

I don't remember. No. Scratch that, I don't like remembering.

I remember on days that she would visit, which started off as being as often as she could, I could not erase the smile on my face. It was impossible. I was the happiest I had ever been despite the fact that I was behind bars - talk about gratefulness. I loved seeing her look so free and happy. The glint in her eyes that I fell in love with, came back: it was beautifully enlightening how she made me feel through her own happiness. I adored her.

I would sit there - for what seemed like hours - just listening to the tune of her voice narrating things that were happening to her, had happened to her and will happen to her, sad to be stuck inside these walls not experiencing them with her. Mostly, they were positive: she told her stories with such warmth and beauty that one day, I became lost in her voice and her words and her stare that I started to fall deeper and deeper until I hit the ground, where I could fall no longer.

Yet I fell even deeper.

She had that effect on me: defying everything. On days that she told me stories that weren't so happy, I would feel my throat close; my heart clench; my tummy fall. It broke my heart when the pitch of her voice would falter and give her away: the slight weakness occasionally slipping. I wanted to feel her pain, I wanted to grasp her sadness and bury it deep within me if it meant that she would not feel even a slice of pain.

I remember feeling so lucky: she had kept her promise. She visited me as often as she could and I was so grateful. I lost myself in those visits and I let myself go. However, of course it could not last and soon enough, she stopped coming.

Eventually, she stopped visiting. Eventually, the very essence of me died. I lost myself behind those walls that kept me prisoner but no matter how strong and tough those walls were, those walls were nothing in comparison to the walls in my mind that trapped me inside somewhere.

Pure grief and ancient sadness had already taken root of my body; planting itself into every part of me. Soon enough, it grew and sprouted pain and I did not know how long I could bare to exist with pain. I tried to hide it from everyone, I didn't want to be weak but of course I couldn't.

I remember just crying all day most days, and hiding. Hiding became my forté, no one could find me unless I wanted to be found. This served well when I wanted to cry - which was always. Yet, no matter how good I became at hiding and crying, I could not escape from what I wanted to hide from the most: my thoughts and I. My thoughts especially. I could not forget her and the pain she brought me every second of my life - pain that was derived from the happiness she used to bring me just by her mere presence.

You don't know how bad I ached. My bones felt brittle under the pain, while my blood boiled and stung. I couldn't bare to get up every morning knowing that I would wake up to the same walls in my head and the walls of the prison with nothing but acid memories to keep me company.

She occupied my mind though. Everything I saw, everything I heard and tasted and smelled made me think of her. I could not escape even if I could run and break through my walls because everything reminded me of her. Everything was her.

I remember how the pain ebbed away at each of my guts. Thoughts so alive, so overwhelming and dizzying danced around my mind, sticking and slicing through me. I am, now, too exhausted to make sense of my loss; I am too exhausted to fight any longer. Nonetheless, the pain is still there: bright and buzzing, constantly reminding me of everything I have lost; I've just gotten better at ignoring it.

Some days I would feel nothing. I would walk around the prison without really thinking or noticing. I could not tell you how many times I wanted to just die, I could not tell you how many times I tried and failed because I would be driven to the very edge by her... yet only to find that I would also be saved by her.

Mostly, I missed her: her words, her laugh, her presence. Eventually people stopped asking me if I was okay, they just fell into the pattern of either ignoring me or sitting by my side in silence, stroking my skin or my hair trying to ease the pain out of my body. If anything, it was only made worse by their thoughtful gestures. Their touch was either too hard or too gentle, too hot or too cold: it was always wrong because they were never hers. They could never offer me real comfort.

Who would have thought it was possible to feel so alone without the mere presence of another human being, that you start to feel hollow? There was not only emptiness around me but emptiness amongst and within me also. It held me and stole me away from all that I once had.

I hated the stares people started to give me when I would actually be aware. Knowing that they thought I was crazy, hurt. Who are they to judge me? They do not feel the emptiness inside of me, the hollow shame that I try to hide from. They don't understand. They have no right to judge me.

I was so frightened that I started drowning in it. I was so frightened that I could not only feel fear, but touch, taste, smell, see and hear it. I thought I was strong. How had she managed to pick at me as though she was picking the petals from a daisy?

I didn't want people's pity. I didn't want anything but her. I wanted to be by her side more than I wanted to eat, or drink or breathe. I could not satisfy my body without her because I had grown so accustomed to being with her. The loss sent my brain into a frenzy.

The anger and bitterness that grew inside of me ruined the best parts of my soul; I wanted to forgive her to save my soul but how? I couldn't say sorry for the things she made me feel, only she could.

I would often wonder why she stopped visiting, whether she had met someone new or whether she blamed me for all the bad in her life. Because I sure do. Had I not been enough?

Does she ever even think of me?

I remember feeling a fire in my chest every time the idea of Piper meeting someone else burned my brain. I knew that I could deliver as much happiness (and more) as this hypothetical person that Piper may or may not have met - if I hadn't been stupid enough to get caught and get locked up.

It was not fair that someone could be happy with her whilst I was still stuck behind the dingy walls, miserable as fuck. Except I knew it was: she deserved to be happy with or without me. But I also knew that I deserved a real go at life with her. I would have done anything for her. I still would.

Except would I? Do I really want her more than revenge? My body says yes, yet my mind says no. My world has fallen apart, while yours and everyone else's seem to only grow bigger, blossom and glow brighter (even though they don't deserve it).

My mind has been stained by a substance called you for long enough: get out of my head. You don't belong there anymore. You don't feel real anymore.

The slowing down of my time made it feel more together, less apart and for the long term made it seem shorter. Soon enough, the final days of my time in prison came and I grew more and more anxious about the freedom with my name written on it waiting for me. The other side. What would I do with this freedom? What could I do?

A month before my release, I started to get back to myself. I found a part of me, but was still left reeling and hurt inside. For the most part, I ignored my body, soul and mind. I ignored what they craved for and started to go about getting over pain in the only way I could do behind bars: get under someone else. Perhaps even over.

And who better than Nicky Nichols? (Except Piper. Always except Piper.)

I say nothing – but the thuds of my heart and the acid tears are enough words to carry my meaning. I am still me even without you... I think.

Firstly, I am overwhelmed and humbled by all the responses, thank you all so much! Secondly, I have been so busy recently so I haven't had a chance to post this, (which worked to my intentions of releasing it just before christmas). Happy holidays y'all! If you're feeling nice, why don't you follow me on instagram: _alyanna , twitter: aly_ or tumblr: bl0odb4nk :)