a big part of who she is is what she don't talk about and told you about. she know you needed the love she gave you, along the care and the embrace. you're a pretty insecure person, you know—who always needs someone by its side to feed its ego. ‎ ‎and here she was, pretty cherry, standing in all those lane, in all those categories. ‎ ‎so why would she leave when she's the perfect girl just for you? ‎ ‎we love us, okay? ‎ ‎you want to throw her love away? that's okay, it's free. she have infinite supply— but there's no other supply of herself in the world you could have. no one could give you the same she gave you. no one. you wouldn't find her to the next person you will date even if you scour the world, cause only she knows that there's not a line in the world she wouldn't cross, for you, for us. those pathetic girls won't be able to handle you like she do. they won't be able to free you like she did— she fixed your problems, got rid of those shitty people bothering you. can they do that? ‎ ‎she found you in this lifetime and she'll find you in the next — that's how much she loves you, how much she worships you, how much she's obsessed with you. ‎ ‎you can't just break that, silly. ‎ ‎it couldn't always be little italy, you know that. she didn't clipped your wings— she will. because you can't leave. she won't be able to handle it. she'll lose her shit, you know. she'll be in pieces. she already fell to pieces when she's with you—cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme, and all her peaches, too. ‎ ‎you can't leave. you can't. ‎ ‎she won't let it happen. ‎ ‎"we're not breaking up." she said with finality, leaning against the back of the couch for some stability to stop herself from throwing something as she lifts a finger, scratch the sidewall of her nose. her jaw clenching and she shakes her head again, her gaze locked to yours. ‎ ‎"what, you thought i'll just say yes?"