I still don't know what's worse: to live in a world where I remember you, or one where I forget us. I know I can't unhear your laugh or unfeel your touch, I can't unlearn your quirks and tells just as much as I cannot unsee the way you looked at me, I can't take back my kisses or repeal my "I love you"s, But do I want to? If I could, would I? I don't know. I don't know if the suffering worth knowing a love so true and passionate We would've burned down the world for each other if they would have just said the word, Or if I should forget it all and pretend it never happened. You stuck a knife in my back and twisted it deep, You ripped my heart from my chest and set fire to my morals, You ruined me like a jealous god desecrating another's altar, and I still don't know whether to cry because it hurt or thank you because if I would want anybody to hurt me, to ruin me, it would be you. It would always be you. You are my antichrist, But isn't it the villain that gives the hero A purpose? A story? A definition? After all, Isn't a story where there is a hero but no villain not a story at all but a collection of meaningless words? The question is, though: Who is who? ~Decidophobia
