She’s a sixteen-year-old girl she’s already had her heart broken thousands of times

Every morning, it’s the same old story and she remembers,

She remembers the moments she held dear and the moments that made her cry

Her heart would flutter and maybe a smile would spread with the ease of peanut butter on toast

Many a time she’d sit and think about what life would be like without him in her life:

Uncontrollable sadness like when the angels cry

Anger to rival that of the bleeding scab on your knee

Emptiness comparable to the hole that’s left when someone borrows your heart and never returns it

To imagine her life without him is her apocalypse, her D-Day, her personal circle of Hell

People tell her they aren’t good together, but the clichés apply

Those who just don’t understand wonder why she’s so dependent, but she can’t explain it

He’s a part of her; he’s the parasite in her bloodstream the doctor’s can’t find

Getting rid of him would be like turning off the oxygen flow to her lungs, watching them crumple paper-thin

Dramatic? She’s not being dramatic and don’t tell her that, she thinks she’s happy

For all we know, she is happy

When she closes her eyes, she sees the Sandman, her companion in REM – he keeps her safe and that’s all he asks, and that’s all she wants (it’s a no-strings attached sort of relationship)

He brings her worlds she never thought she wanted to see; warmth she never she knew she lacked

He’s all she ever wanted but her mom doesn’t understand, because it’s 6 AM on a weekday and there’s obviously an 8-hour restriction on love