no ketchup please

i felt like i was always rising up to the occasion. i was always the shoulder to cry on. i was the first one called when the rainclouds rolled in, and the last when the sun shone. don't get me wrong, i love the rain. i love to help, i love to be necessary. but every so often i have a thunderstorm of my own. i need to be helped. and help is a hard thing to ask for. he knew that aswell. so all of a sudden we were throwing ourselves into whichever pursuit would illicit the most dismal result. i didn't have to say a word as he carried my lifeless body, waited for me to come down and sober up. he didn't need to ask me to clean the blood from his hands.  we played this game of saviour and saved. and everything i did wrong, everytime he hurt me, it would all fall back to zero as the roles reversed. back and forth, checked and balanced, up and down. can you blame me for falling in love with the one who never forgot i like pepper on my french fries, but couldn't remember my birthdate?