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The realization that I will always be the fantasy.
The most amazing, loved, and longed for fantasy, but only the fantasy. The mistress.
The one you experiment with.
But you will never actually take me as a partner.
It’s beneath your dignity. Because I’m a breathtaking fantasy... but a dirty one.
What a fun, fucked up gift. Where do I sign up for conversion therapy?
Well, maybe the fourth times a charm.
I love you, but I love me more.
I cant break up with you. I’ve already tried three times.
You’re playing me, and you know it.
You’ve turned me obsessive for your attention.
Im not your nanny or babysitter.
I don’t want this anymore. You’re hurting me.
As long as I still have feelings, I won’t be able to walk away.
All that’s left for me is to emotionally detach until you get tired of me.
And just become a body.
If you asked me about him, I would tell you that he hurt me.
If you asked me on a deeper level, I would tell you that he left me in fragments of what I once was.
That he took my faith in love and shattered it.
He threw it against the wall and thought nothing of the shards that scattered everywhere and pierced every part of me.
I would tell you that he altered every cell of my dna, and reshaped me into someone laying in ruins of everything they used to be.
Strip me of all that makes me a woman so i can finally exist in peace.
I don't know how to be a partner.
The only thing thought I knew was sex.
Now i found out even that I don't know.
I have nothing to bring to the table.
I'm not even a hoe.
I hate me, because I luv him
כואב לי.
Dont ever judge my walls, they keep me alive.
נשבר לי הלב 💔❤️🩹💘
No one learns loneliness like the eldest daughter who knows she has to save herself.
