We have received countless medical records of this type in our archives. Symptoms are as follows: You always fall for "broken" men. The prodigal sons, the depressives, the misunderstood artists, the avoidant personalities incapable of commitment. You say: "He is pitiful. Only I understand him. I can change him."
My dear, allow me to ruthlessly slice open this lie. This is not love. This is a narcissistic pathology known as "The Savior Complex."
Why are you obsessed with broken people? Because a whole, strong, mentally healthy man does not need you to "save" him. Before him, you are equal, perhaps even passive. But facing a broken man, you instantly occupy the high ground. You are his medicine, his light, his God.
You do not love the man himself. You love the sense of power gained from the process of "fixing him." It is an addiction. Watching him get a little better under your care gives you a rush stronger than drugs. And when he falls again, the pain you feel is actually mixed with a secret excitement—because it proves he still cannot leave you.
Auralia's diagnosis is a single sentence: Stop playing God. Those cracks are not your responsibility. Some souls are born to leak; you could fill them with your own flesh and blood, and you still wouldn't fill a black hole.
When you try to stitch up an abyss, the only result is that you fall into it yourself. Cut that red thread of redemption. Let the broken break. Let the rotting rot. The one you should be saving is yourself—the one holding the needle and thread, hands covered in blood, yet still putting on a brave face.