Sean, can you not see how this is affecting you? It's tearing you apart. Oh, my dear friend... you're looking for love in all the wrong places. Are you so used to bad love that you begin to seek it out yourself?

I know he made you no promise, I know he breaks no vow but, my friend, I see in your eyes that your heart made a vow to him, a vow which remains unreturned. Why did you have to go and give your heart away? I know he's beautiful, poetic really, I know all this. I simply thought that maybe his beauty wouldn't affect you this much. You aren't what he seeks and he's not what you need.

No, I don't hate him for what he does to you because you always let him. You let him ignore you, flirt with others, take you for granted. He hurts you but you let him. Love doesn't have to be like this. He's not what you need and you're not what he's looking for.

He's young, my friend, he has a whole life to taste and play in. He doesn't have your burdens to carry nor your scars on his heart. You can't expect him to understand, you can't wait for him to come around. Don't you see? You give your heart away too freely; you demand too little in return. Love doesn't have to be this painful; love doesn't have to be this hard. It can be pure, real and beautiful. It can be so much better than what you have now.

I've tried so many times to warn you, to tell you to be careful but you won't listen to me. I see stars in your eyes whenever he walks into a room, I see how your eyes light up, how your smile widens... and I see how the smile fades and the light dies out when he walks past you to embrace another. You can't blame him and I know you don't. Even I can't blame him. He laid the rules out clearly enough, that much you've told me every time I find you drunk, trying to forget and ease your pain in a blissful nothingness which never lasts past dawn. No, he didn't break the rules in staying away; you broke them in moving closer.

I watch you now as you sleep off yet another futile attempt to ease the pain in your heart. I'm always here for you, to guide you, help you and pick you up when you fall but you never see me, not really. All you speak of is him, all you breathe is him... you're addicted and I begin to fear I don't have any twelve-step plan for you.

I softly stroke your blond hair and kiss your forehead. You turn and mumble his name in your sleep and I grimace as I draw my hand back. He haunts you even in sleep; I can see little release for you. My friend, you're addicted and it pains me more than I can say.

You always seem so strong, you come on so sure of yourself but in matters of the heart you've been hurt too often to feel sure of much of anything at all. I wish you'd understand how special you are, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, see you as I see you now. You are so beautiful, your hair like a halo around your head, your features calm and free from worries. You look so young and peaceful in sleep yet also so vulnerable and... broken, somehow broken.

Can't you see it? You're addicted, heart, soul, body and mind. You're a junkie looking for love but my friend, you're looking in all the wrong places. You deserve more than a faint flicker of attention once in a while. You're so much more than this.

He'll walk away, you know this or else this wouldn't hurt you so damn much. He will walk away and what will you then be left with? An addiction you can't get over, a junkie without his drug. What will you do then? Where will you turn then?

Don't you see that he can't give you what you want and what he wishes to give will never be enough for you? Can't you see it's all falling apart? What you have here is fragile and it'll fall to the floor and shatter into a million pieces... just like glass. How will you ever pick those pieces up again?

You give too much. You gave far more than he asked for and far more than he wanted. I don't blame him, I don't blame you. This is not a matter of blame anyway. This is a matter of the heart and in such matters even the strongest man can become a fool.

As I sit here, keeping vigil by your bedside for yet another night, trying to pick up the pieces yet again thoughts keep haunting me and make me wonder...

Who's the more fool here? Me for being so addicted to you or you for being so addicted to Orli? I know you're a junkie for his love yet what am I but a junkie, hopelessly holding on for you to turn around?

I know something of addiction and I know that it's much harder to get over when first you've had the slightest feel of what could have been. Such moments become bittersweet to taste when it's all over and can prevent a man from moving on, he can become stuck in a moment he can't get out of. Please, my friend, don't do that. Don't hold out for something which will never happen.

I have my dreams, I have my hopes and I have my love but I've never experienced what it feels like to hold you, to touch you or taste you. When it's time for me to walk away, I'll have no memories to cling to, nothing that could grant me false hope in cold days to come.

What a pair we make, my friend. What a pair. I shall always be here for you should you ever need me to be but, beloved friend of mine, even though I confess I'm addicted to you, it's an addiction I can fight, one I can hold back. Can you? Can you fight your addiction?

You're a junkie holding out for a love which will never come. All I can do is stand here, waiting, watching and hoping that one day you can break free. I think you know you're addicted, I think you know you're a junkie for him but I also think you feel it's alright... but it's not. It's only a matter of time before he walks away and when he does I only hope you can free yourself from your addiction... I only hope you can. I know he's overwhelming, I know he's beautiful like a god, I know his words can taste as sweet as honey, his lips must be burning, his kisses perfect... but love is so much more than that. You can make it so much better than this.

You're addicted, a junkie holding out for love in all the wrong places. Walk away, turn around... you're looking in all the wrong places... Or am I?


The End