Maybe next year, the fire inside of me will burn out and I'll see that the sky is clear even when I'm not with you. Maybe later, I'll stop screaming out your name whenever I got drunk and maybe then I'll realize that you had always been poisoning my lungs.

Maybe, maybe I will stop letting you in. Maybe I can stop romanticizing the harmful things you did to me, maybe.. Maybe then I'll start feeling better. Maybe then I won't feel like I'm going to die.