The sickness lingers, and like all ultimate acceptance of pain, it teaches me a resolve over you. You will always be there and you’ll never change. I called you inconstant, but your occasional best intentions and childish ego are steadfast. They will always be there like a bad habit, an itch just out of reach to scratch. It might sound like I hate you - I even can say it all too readily - but both of us know I never truly could. I think once you let go of hate you heal faster. Which would be great about now.