No matter how far you reach out, our fingertips will never meet again, and I think maybe that hole in my chest will finally close itself and heal.

Your hand is too distant to grasp but the gaps between my fingers are becoming smaller and smaller nonetheless. I think it's easier this way.

You held me hostage by the throat, but I'm still breathing.

I am not another person. I am Myself, not Yours. I am Control, Emotions, and Desire of Individuality.