I'd always known I wasn't normal. It was in a flower garden that she'd told me that she wasn't either. Maybe that's why we clung onto each other like rafts, trying our best just to stay afloat, to survive. I wanted her, not out of love, but necessity. I needed her to survive, just as I needed my blood, my organs. Is that why I held onto her so tightly? Never let her leave? Is that why I destroyed her? But in that same vein, she destroyed me too. This is a story that's been told thousands, millions of times. Is it necessity if you need what destroys you? With and without her, I would have been destroyed. It can't be avoided, can it?