Tuesday, October 27, 2009, 12:47 AM

you're like my own personal brand of heroin.

Had I turned masochistic—developed a taste for torture?
It didn’t feel like the pain had weakened over time, rather that I’d grown strong enough to bear it.
Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.
The more you loved someone, the less sense anything made.