Pathological (From a book I’ll never write)

Pathological (From a book I’ll never write)

‘I don’t want you to be sad Emma’ he said, using my name so I knew he meant it. I turned to him and smiled. Genuinely for once.

‘Don’t you see my love, I am in love with the sadness.’

My reply didn’t surprise him, no, that wasn’t the expression on his face. Fear. That was it. It was fear because he’d seen my type before, the ones that get high on their own sadness. It was a fear that somewhere in our story I would slip between the pages and the lines and fall for the feelings instead of him. A small part of me wanted to read out and take his hand, tell him it’s all a lie, reassure him that he would be all I need.

But I didn’t say it, because i don’t like liars and most of all, it was inevitable that I would leave him one day. He may see it coming, or maybe he would wake up one day and I wouldn’t be his anymore. Either way, I can’t lie to him.

He opened his mouth to say something.

‘Shush’, I said softly. ‘Don’t speak. I need you to know that right now, this very second, I choose you.’

‘Seconds pass quickly’ he said, in a tone that made me wonder whether he had meant to say it aloud.

‘But right now,’ A pause ‘I choose you.’

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