Sometimes I can't tell if I'm falling in love with the person or the moment. Sometimes I wish I could still dwell in my depression with you. It felt easier. At least I wasn't alone. At least depressed with you sounded a hell of a lot better than depressed and lonely. I still am not sure if I am wrong. I know you were no good for me, I still do. But God, I fucking loved you. I guess I still do. At least I think I do. I think I did. Maybe I was falling in love with a million moments that, when blended together, sounded a lot like you. I don't think I'll ever know if you loved me. I still second guess it. Another part of me feels like I know. Like I can feel that love there. Like I could see it in your eyes. Then again, that could have just been the flicker of light on the end of my cigarette. Sometimes I feel like I imagined the passion. Sometimes I feel like I don't know you at all. Like I never did. Sometimes if I shut my eyes hard enough it's easy to imagine you were never there, but it doesn't last long. Other times I know exactly who you are. A concept. A goddamn thunderstorm of depression with an eight-six percent chance of anxiety. Your winds blow so fiercely I often lose my balance. Do you remember that night? It's the only thing I can't forget. You held on to me like clouds holding onto the last bit of sunlight before the darkness takes over completely. I could have sworn then you were giving me light but now I can see you were what put me out.