"And I hate myself

Just enough to want him

But I hate him just enough to get off

But I understand him

Maybe I'm just crazy enough

To love him

Why not?"-Poe

Do you ever wonder if I'm a glutton for punishment? No, I didn't think so. But I do. WHY THE MOTHER FUCKING FUCK FUCKKKKKK DO I TALK TO HIM!?!??! Really, it's as if I am seducing the past with a nightmare disguised as a wet dream. I do not love him. I do not. And the lack of conviction in those statements just means that I am crazy, simple as that. What I feel for him, is most definitely not love. Love isn't this dirty and truly mean. Love isn't an enemy. Not real love. Real love is pure light energy passing from one's soul to another. Hollywood love is what this is. Too twisted around and around to be real. Too foggy and blood full of lies.

I want to tell him that never in all of our history did he fool me. I want to tell him that I played the same deferment tricks with him, as I did with my brother. I want to tell him I fueled whatever he felt he got out of me. I want to tell him, that all along, I was faking. Faking because I was so obsessed with him. And that when I let him step on me, he only crushed himself, because my strength was hidden on the inside. Only when I could take it no longer did I let it rip from within me and take over. I shocked the shit out of him the final night. All the things I said and the look in my eyes as I said them. To this day one of the hardest things I�ve ever had to do. Harder than trying to kill myself.

He sees me as the same old girl. He told me that. And there is no way to show him otherwise, because there is no conceivable future for us. He talks to me the same; pulls the same transparent mind tricks. I feel like saying 'who the fuck do you think you are speaking with? You must really never have known me.'

But I don't. There's the rub. Fucking rug burn of the clit and eyes and heart and any other conceivable sensitive nerve ending body part. Why? Because I feel the old girl inside of me pleading that I don't make him go away again. Begging me to let her love him.

I must have some sadistic yearning for inner turmoil to be doing this again. You know what I need to get my mind off of it? A good fuck. Yeah, I'll take one of those please.


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