My heart, taped together with scraps of paper and the strings of our love. My mind, bent, twisted, yet loved by you at every turn. My body, broken, grotesque, not even worth mentioning, but cherished and dreamt of by you. In the mirror, I see nothing, like a vampire looking for his reflection, and yet you see the world. For all my insecurities, my bumps and bruises, you love me anyway. You try to raise me to heights unimaginable. But, Mykell, I'm afraid of heights. My insecurities, my flaws, my scars, too deep to be healed, and too stubborn to be helped. The weight of them all pulling me down, and with them, you. I can't bear to see you suffer, to watch as your body and mind crumble to states that only mine could rival. So I cast you off, throwing you into the abyss with hopes that you'd float, and one day find another you cherished so. But, to my surprise, you did not float, instead, turning, drowning, floundering, swimming with all your might to me. The look in your eyes, not the fear of death, or fear of me, but fear of loss. You swim, wanting nothing more than to carry us both back to safety, but it's not enough. My weight, my burden, soon wears you down too, exhausting you, damaging you. But still, you refuse to give up, clinging to me with the look that says "We've always been idiots, haven't we?"