She lived life on the edge, relentless and unbounded by social standards. Moral codes were never part of her biological system. She simply functioned via “because,” “because I want to.” Everybody knew her, and everyone wanted a part of her: her eccentricity, her gaze, her ambience, her nonchalance, her gossamer smile. And when she loved, she fell hard– hard enough to let herself go. She loved him the way a drowning man gasps for air– desperately. He was her inspiration, her catalyst, her what-if, and her light at the end of a dark tunnel. From emotions of despair, desperation, and loneliness, she was fire, ice, and passion. She let herself shatter against all the edges of the world, and trusted that there will be some beauty in the pieces. She loved life as only a human could– imperfectly, but with all her heart. And one day, she would crash and burn, making some hell of a spark.

Because in the end, all she ever really was was a girl who needed saving, and he was simply her hero.


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