There was a girl. A girl who loved to love. She thought her infatuations to be so full and strong and solid, that they were nearly tangible. She immersed herself in other people and rapidly became attune to how their mind worked, their habits, their emotions, all of the minuscule characteristics that make them who they are. She washed herself bare so that she could absorb every ounce of them. It was magical; to hold so much of someone without them knowing. The only complication to this living, is that it is not living. It is existing, whilst filled with someone else. It is a species of love that is dangerous. And she knew that. Even so, the heaviness brought on by someone whom she could soak up so completely was life changing. But the weight began to make life difficult. Her feet began to drag and it wasn't yet time to get new shoes. Her neck began to ache from not only the sum, but the magnitude of her thoughts. While her knees wobbled, her heart expanded. She did not want to empty herself again. Her veins were filled with just the right amount of joy. However, by filling herself with someone else, she forgot what was there before and she couldn't watch the road ahead while so captivated. She had to open herself up and let it all fall out. Right then and there she swung her ribcage open and let go of everything that bonded her to those who she had allowed to occupy her. She felt light. She felt alone. She felt free. And she began to sprint instead of walk. She shouted instead of whispering. She reflected on the people who once resided in her and she smiled. And she cried. And she yelled. And she knew that without her own minuscule characteristics crowding around inside of herself, she would not be able to truly live, live wholly. And so she started to collect the pieces that were once her. And she rebuilt herself. Strengthened herself. Cast her nets wide, unafraid of losing those who she knew would be found; not by herself, but found nonetheless. And she lived. Lived thoroughly and fiercely. And she wrote about her love, and her sadness, and her anger, and all of the things the changed the shade of her skies. And she was happy.