youre a slick little girl

The love that I feel, that I give and am given, belies a further-down feeling that beyond everything and perhaps because of it I am so deeply codependent. When I’m alone even for an hour I’m overcome with thoughts of death in all of her cold glory, the fingers claw at the back of my mind as strongly as they ever did, and I am beginning to feel like a girl child who needs a babysitter to avoid putting her fingers in the electrical sockets. And still I know that the love I feel is love and nothing else, but I feel the most icy fear at the idea of whom or what I may have become by now if I didn’t have him.