and then i realise, that my self-destructive tendencies, stem from watching her tear herself to pieces and with trembling hands, try to put the pieces back together, and then scatter them, gather them, over and over, the pieces becoming smaller and finer, like grains of sand, slipping through her fingers and disappearing into the air. i have learnt to do the same simply by watching her fall and rushing to pick her up. realising that doesn't make things easier. of course now i try harder, to consciously, deliberately, stop myself. but when i fail, an overwhelming sense of guilt and helplessness crushes me and wears me down. the voices in my head tell me i'm attempting an impossible task, for her blood courses through my veins.