This is when you'll fall out of orbit. This is when I'll brush your hair back as you spew burning acid into a stranger's toilet. This is when I'll take you home and tuck you into bed while I take the floor. This is when you'll think that you're better off dead, that you are darkness and that she is luminosity. That without one, the other cannot exist. That you might not survive. That you'll fall again.
This is the part where I'll tell you that you won't just survive, you will prosper. Why? Because sometimes we must unlearn constellations to see individual stars for what they really are.
