That's what happens to me without you,
or socks without a shoe.
(My thoughts before I go to bed)
Well then, now that that rhyme is out of my head, let us proceed to the topic I wanted to write about: dependence.
There are certain types of dependence that are nice, like how my mother insists on sugar with her buttered toast or how ice cream is never that good without a cone. These things, they do not hurt when the other component is gone– and the ice cream will still be good.
But then we have dependency with desperation, with your insides churning with the fear of loss, when the end is not an acceptable option. Dependence where without the other, you know you will break, bleed, burn. And there is no end to the torment this will bring.
(Things and feelings I remembered unearthing all those old photos)
Never fall in love with a young stupid boy. But then again, go. Dependency can be a beautiful thing–– until you're 24 and forced to read about your adolescent loves.
(I really do hate you now, Multiply. Thanks, but no thanks for that trip down memory lane)
But I guess it does happen, doesn't it? Loving, leaving, and losing?
(Because the thoughts in my head are broken now. I am falling asleep.)
I still love. I do not love less, depend less as I grow old. I love differently.