It's gotten to the point where being sober is something to celebrate. My love for you is consuming me, driving my mind to the extreme. Pushing my heart to the edge. Making me question every piece of sanity I might have left in me. I'm so drunk off the thought of you. The thought of your lips on my neck, your hands on my waist, your hair being held tight in-between my shakey fingers. The smell of your Gucci cologne permanently suffocating me and inevitably damaging my well being. How do humans survive this, this absolutely awful, gut wrenching thing we cringe to call love.