In his adventures, as punishment for his sins, Hercules had to complete twelve labors as mandated by the king. One of them was to kill the many- headed beast that was the Hydra. However, unbeknownst to him, when one head would fall to the ground, two more would sprout in its place. His efforts were rendered useless, his breath was wasted, and his strength diminished. But I am no Hercules. I slash at the pain of the memories branded into my head. I tire, and I lose my breath. I try to hide my emotions away, as if perhaps not seeing the Hydra meant it was as good as dead. Even when it appears I have bested the beast, it comes back and haunts me. It finds me in the haven of my sleep and slips in like an uninvited guest. My love which I had so desperately tried to exile from my soul, had made its return. And just like the heads of the Hydra, this time it is stronger. I have only grown weaker in the absence of your attention, of your voice, and of your presence. Hercules defeated the Hydra by using fire to sear the severed necks. But it would only take one kiss from you to engulf my body in flames, to burn away my sins. I thirst for the fire of your love, of the passion I feel within. Your love is a monster that can't be defeated. And I let it consume me.
