Darling, you fucked up.

A short story told through the media of we heart it finds that have made me jolt across the months. In the case of the first image - years. 

It's always the same person they make me think of. Always bitter sweet. I've never behaved so callously, never been so angry, never played such cruel games, never kept going back to anyone else. 

My reasoning to never be with them is the thought 'if we were actually together, we'd destroy one another.' But it seems that breaking contact with them does that too.

 And it's something that should be long dead (fittingly for Dead Thing Thursday). But it just keeps coming back to life. It's like he's a bad habit I cannot break. It worries me that it'll keep happening. We'll keep haunting each other until it's too late and we're far too old to do anything about it, and we'll look at each other through rheumy eyes across a nursing home and say 'it should have been you. All these years. It should have been you.'