I don’t think it was ever supposed to happen this way. We met at the same time as the world started to go insane.

I don’t remember giving you permission to rummage though my brain until you found the light and switched it off. You were never supposed to do that X, you were never supposed to light a fire inside my stomach. I am burning, I am burning, and I was never meant to be burnt. You went John Darrel on me, and now I don’t know where to hide. X, you were supposed to share the flowers in my garden, but I guess you never understood what that meant. It makes sense, because even when I was hungry, you took away the scraps. You found home in my sadness, and X you know that’s not right, you know.

X, I am burning, I am burning and you’re supposed to put me out, where is the hose X? Where is the extinguisher? Did you swallow all the water to quench your thirst, did you drain the dams into your blue water bottle for your walk back home? And leave me here, burning?

At this point, I’m unsure of what to think. I am scared of being this alone, yet I am more scared of being by your side and loosing you at the same time.

Is this who you are? Jumping into peoples arms until the weight has pushed them into the ground, stuck. I never saw you as an acrobat but it seems like you never want to come down and touch ground.

But X, love, you might jump fast, you might even learn how to fly. But fire spreads, and I am burning, and everyone knows what happens to a forest when the flint is hit – it becomes wildfire.