I love you. I love you more than I love myself and that's bad. That's very bad. That's horrid. I am dependable and weak and I need you to walk along the merciless path that is my uncertain destiny. I want to be independent but your love is holding me back. And I want it to. I want it to? I don't know, not any more. My feelings are drawing me to you, while common sense and experience are driving off and I don't know which one to follow, because both options are going to tear me apart. I am you now. I breath your air and talk your words and plan your future. I am so profusely fused to you that it terrifies me to even think of breaking this unhealthy bond.
My heart runs one way and my mind the opposite one. Which one should I leave behind? What is worse, a broken heart or never-ending hidden misery in a golden cage? Because your love is a prison. A lovely one. But a prison, indeed.