I wrote him a list of fifty things that were fantastic about him as a Valentine's gift. He cut things off two days before the holiday and I drank half a bottle of vanilla to numb my fingers and warm my throat. He had a schizophrenic breakdown on my apartment floor and kissed me after the hallucinations stopped and forgot he did that when we woke up the next morning. I never gave him his Valentine, but he gave me one scrawled on pink paper in olive ink: "Sorry that I keep ruining your life."