Do you remember all the drunken phone calls you would supply me with on countless three am mornings? Stumbling and fumbling on your words while you tried to tell me how horrible she was to you and all the little digs she had taken that day. Do you remember convincing me of her "sickness" because no sane person could ever dare touch your body and not fall madly in love with it. Do you remember the power you probably felt as you realized i was buying every lie you were selling to me? Because I remember the day I actually met your so called sick lover and how I looked down upon her because of the things I thought she had done to you. And the time that I wandered into that little coffee shop you both work at only to find her there and not you. And the conversation I had with her that night which blead into the next nine months and counting. And how surprised I was to find that the heart I was once convinced of being black is actually thriving. And the time that I realized that you weren't lying about the relationship being toxic but the cancer wasn't coming from her hands. And how mad I got that you spread rumors of abuse and torture that never truly existed. But see the ironic thing is after all that time the girl you claimed to be ill, your own personal patient, doesnt even hate you for the placebo you've been injecting into everyone and you know why? Because after all this time she was the doctor and you were the one needing medical attention.