She shows up when you least expect her,

She doesn’t bother knocking on the door,

She walks in with her boots on,

She pours herself a glass of your best wine,

She sits in your favorite armchair,

And she lights a cigarette in your non-smoking house.

She couldn’t care less if you have other plans for dinner, for the night, for the week or for the year to come.

She couldn’t care less if you are deeply married with three kids, with a steady job and a reliable daily cup of coffee.

She just shows up, like that,

And she turns your life upside down.

She makes you delirious, dysfunctional, obsessed.

You lose your sense of time and appetite.

You can either not sleep at night, or you sleep 16 hours straight.

You cannot focus and you find yourself arriving at work in two mismatched shoes, wearing your leopardskin blanket instead of your office coat.

She does what crack could never do –

In a matter of hours she turns you into an addict.

She takes over your entire house,

And she walks around in her dirty boots feeling very much at home.

And you… you cannot say anything to her.

You look at her, mesmerized by her beauty, while she sings to you, plays with you, then fucks you and throws you over the cliff…

You manage to survive… this time.

She then sits there by your side, combing your hair as you lick your wounds…

Sometimes you get really pissed with her, you yell at her and tell her to get out of your life and to forget your address and phone number. That’s enough, you say. Enough torture, enough suffering.

She may resist a little, but then she goes.

A sigh of relief. You throw away her toothbrush. You seem to be all right. Life seems to go on without her.

You seem to manage… Yet something is missing. And it starts to ache. A lot.

It actually doesn’t take long before you realize that it is even more unbearable without her than it is with her.

And you beg her to come back.

And one day, before you know it, she’s back in your house, walking around like a queen in her dirty boots.

You know what’s going to happen.

You know that it won’t be long until she wraps you in a cocoon like a spider, throws you on your back and devours you like a tiger consuming an antelope.

She will possess you and she will fuck you up.

And all you do is beg for more.

You know her well.

She is right here, closer than your breath.

She will never apologize.

She has no shame.

She has no guilt.

She is the only one who has ever loved you.

And she is the one who will set you free eternally.

If only you let her.

She breathes air into your lungs.

She pours blood into your veins.

She gives you all of life and she holds you in utter compassion.

And she also kills you. Time and time again.

And you know that it is better to die this way, than never to have loved at all.

Photo by @katarinabaliova