You thought you found something. It's not yours to keep. You see what she could be, what she has been, and you want it all for yourself. You can't justify it. Can't explain it, your obsession with her. Maybe she found you, and decided you should be left behind. Maybe you're the thing that was found. Maybe she touched you, and showed you how life could be. Maybe she ****** you by doing it.

Maybe she was the beginning to your end.

You're crazy. You know it, accept it, and now embrace it. It was easier pretending it wasn't there; that you could keep living the lie. Your mask was strong; it became you. But now it's broken and there's nothing left but pieces. You pick them up. They cut your hands. This isn't who you want to be. This isn't you. Your mask is gone; who are you without it?