We started out simply as psychologist and patient. Things were complicated. We had chemistry, I was crazy about you, but you didn't want to distance yourself from your studies. You had recently graduated from college and wanted to be a great psychologist and a writer. You dreamed big, and that was one of the things that kept me from walking away, like I did with others. The first few weeks after you gave in to our relationship were interesting. We're young and desperate, stuck to each other for days. But you were too focused on your career. We had no time for ourselves. And to make matters worse, I had episodes of loneliness from time to time. This caused us to drift apart. I would sit on your couch, waiting for you to come home from work, with a cigarette between my fingers and a glass of water, hopefully, as if that glass of water could reverse all the smoke in my lungs. Whenever you arrived, I tried to talk to you, even knowing that you would just give me a kiss on the cheek and go back to studying. When I heard the doorknob turn, I looked in your direction. "You're late, again."