In the years it took me to stop crying and set out to write,the world has changed around me.
The places we used to go, the things we used to do.
All our memories have been stolen, by time, or by me, I do not know.
But now, I sit with the last of my breaths, my last chance at a survival I seem unable to shake.
My hands on the keyboard, the words stuck in my throat, perhaps when this story is over, I should have discovered, exactly what it was, what it is about you that makes this feeling so overwhelming, obsessive, and deadly.