‎I wish I could be the calm instead of the hurricane, the anchor instead of the wave that pulls you under. I wish I could stay long enough to put you back together—to be the one who heals you instead of the one who wounds you. But I know I cannot. ‎ ‎There is something fundamentally broken inside me. A darkness, a fear, a weakness that makes me run even when my soul is screaming for me to stay. ‎ ‎And I am terrified that I am only poison to you—that my presence is a slow kind of dying, that I am nothing but a storm bringing rain, pain, and destruction. I am afraid I will keep taking pieces of you until there is nothing left, until you become an empty shell, and that would be the greatest sin I could ever commit. ‎ ‎I am sorry that loving me costs you so much. It tears me apart to realize that loving me has become your burden, that my name has become synonymous with pain in your heart. ‎