there’s truly nothing as crazymaking as the dynamic between a person paralysed by their own grief and the person who takes it upon themselves to break them free of that by taking their hurt onto themselves. it’s inarguably not a healthy form of intimacy but it’s such a unique and compelling bond. not to mention the fascinatingly irrational emotionally-driven psychological machinations that could drive someone to override their sense of self-preservation to martyr themselves in order to relieve someone else’s pain in such a manner. you can destroy my possessions. hit me. say whatever cruel, unfair things are raging inside you. you need to let it out, so take it out on me. i can take it. i can’t stand to see you hurting, beyond my reach, and not share in what you’re feeling. so help me to understand. let me share the burden. i’ll take whatever you give me. and when you’re done, and you collapse in on yourself, the fire that’s been eating away at you entirely spent, weeping with such shuddering sobs that they wrack your whole body on the way out, unable to stand unsupported, i will gather you in my arms and hold you tight, unable to resist placing myself between you and the rest of the world for just a little longer, and tell you i know. i know. i know. and it will be the truth.