The thing is, I am addicted to love.
I’m addicted with its capabilities and ineptness, its strength and weaknesses, its potentials and infelicitous turn of events, its different worlds and hues, its supernovas and catastrophes, its magic and how people entangle in its invisible spider web. And that’s the problem. I have no control of my addiction; I have no ways of stopping it. I have tried different solutions before but none is effective.
And you know what I’m terrified of?
I’m terrified that one day, I might destroy you.
One day, I might break you.
One day, my addiction could become so incessant that I could take everything you’ve ever known into something you don’t know. I could turn you upside down, fly with you and just leave you within a snap. I could make you feel like the stars in the sky and let your burn yourself so you can twinkle for me. I could make you choose bad things and tell you that I would be there for you, because I would if only I could. I could take your whole world and make every spin about me. I could kill us.
You don’t know how badly I want to know every single detail from you, whether it has the capability to hurt me. Which school did you choose? What is your favorite color? Do you like your sandwiches cut in halves or triangles? When was the first time you fell in love with someone? What did she ever do to you that you fear I might do the same thing she did?
I need to know things—I need to know every single thing about you because I can’t imagine a world where I don’t. I can’t imagine breathing in a world where you and I do not belong to each other. And it’s a burning need; it’s a wildfire not a flicker.
Insatiable. Unrelenting. If you knew, if you truly, truly knew how bad it is already, what I fight against every single second, you should consider being serious because if you’ll just be flippant about this, you better leave.