I stood frozen in horror as you set your bedroom on fire, tearing apart your favorite shirts and breaking picture frames. The smoke curled up towards the ceiling and you looked at me like I was a car crash unfolding before your eyes. You drove us to the river, silent and white knuckled the entire way. You sighed when we got out and put a rock on the gas pedal. I tried to take your hand as we watched your rickety car sink into the sunsets reflection, but you pulled away and said you couldn't bear to hold onto one more thing that just wouldn't fix itself.