She loves me deeply, she says. Her mouth ticks up on one side like a barely-hidden smirk. She is beautiful, she is wild.
I breathe in sharply when she tells me she will not meet me today, she has somewhere else to be. I am calm, and so I tell myself as anguish fills me like a sponge soaking up water.
She is lovely, she is wild. And she claims to be mine.
"Should I stay?" She asks, trademark half-smile in place as I sigh and groan over my papers. I gesture impatiently but look up before her smile can disappear.
"Yes, please stay," I say, voice softening and growing fond as I take in the charming picture she makes, so full of life and personality. She jumps onto the couch by me and at once I am better.
I am too dependant on her, some say. It is true that if she leaves I will be bruised, broken, torn into pieces far beyond repair. But dependant? No, I can manage my own work without her help.
It is just that I need her. She is my cocaine, she inspires me and lights me up in a way nothing else can. Am I addicted? You could say that.
It was always a what if. What if one day she leaves me? What if. Why would she ever stay with me, a washed-out shell of a man? What if.
One day comes.
It is worse than it could ever be. It is better than I could ever imagine. I am shackled, I am free. My head is a mess, my words fall off my tongue in an endless meaningless stream.
"What can I do to make you stay?" I beg. She loves another, she says, almost in tears. She never meant for it to happen. She does not listen. She is my wild girl- no, not mine any longer.
But She is lovely And she is wild.
When she goes at last I collapse onto the floor. My mind is a jumble of thoughts. I lie there for hours, thinking, sorting out my thoughts.
But I am free. Free from the shackles that bind me to this earth. Free from the worry that the worst will happen, for it has happened already.
Freedom always has a price they say. Mine was my heart, but I won't miss it all that much. She was always too wild for me.