Most of us don't know this, but every single day our body is fighting cancerous cells. It runs in our blood and it runs amok. Day and night, as you read and as I write, our body is the ultimate showcase of our victory.

We are alive. We are undefeated. For another day we will eat, live and breathe. But it doesn't change the fact that the fight is everlasting and constantly ongoing.

In many ways, it made me think of you.

I have long ago accepted that you have become a part of the blood in my veins. I have resigned to the mix of guilt, regret and ache that the thoughts of you bring every night. You're the cancer I have to forever fight, and sometimes all I want to do is surrender to you.

I want to go on my knees and whisper I'm sorry. I want to burn your name into my throat and say it eternally. I want to tell you there's nothing more fucking perfect than you and there never will be.

You are as diverse and complex as a cancer.

You are as painful and unending as a cancer.

You will never be my salvation.

You will only be the death of me.