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@pandemonium-central
your hand fits in mine like it’s made just for me
I'm a vampire.
I feed on the essence of you.
I cradle you just enough to spill your guts, to trust me, to believe I’m special, that I’m truly seeing you. And I do see you.
I examine you detail by detail, dissecting your emotions, stories, and hidden motives to assemble a clinical portrait of how your machinery works. I let go once I know you, once I’ve determined you’re neither a threat nor a vein I can mine for more, more, more to feel alive.
But rarely does anyone hold my interest beyond the first taste. More than anything, I want you to surprise me, to come alive. Instead, only the unsatisfiable hunger remains. So I discard you like a used glove and move on to the next subject, to feed my curiosity.
I search endlessly. Every conversation feels hollow.
True Romance
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. I'd do anything for you baby, just please come back to me and love me right.
Twenty-two days.
Another sleepless night, tearing up at the thought of you. I'm in so much pain and so conflicted inside. All I want is to crawl back and beg on my knees. I'll be anything you want, I'll give up everything for as long as I can be with you. Just love me back, please. In all honesty I think you'd kindly reject me. Because you're likely in a better state of mind, you might even have already found a new shiny toy to occupy your dreams and desires. The space I used to fill. At the same time I'm completely clear on the fact that this equation will never work out - no matter how hard I try and make the square fit in the triangle hole. The harder I bang, the more the box breaks. You were not good to me a lot of the time. When there were better days, or good times you are the best thing I can imagine. Maybe I could have stuck it out for a little while longer - but what would be the end result? I'd be broken, and I'd never be able to build a family with you. You would be a terrible example to my children, who would not grow up in the warm, loving home that I want to give them. Part of me wants to show these scribbles to you, what if something would change if you just understood the depth of my love for you? I'm fooling myself, nothing would change - you already know, and it doesn't matter. But what if... never mind. I'm terrified that you might be the love of my life, I really hope someone else can top the good version of you so I can stop longing so. Despite all this, the heart wants what it wants and it's wrong. I know better, but I want it anyway - it's so painfully human.
Sixteen days.
I still think of you, and cry in the evenings. Did we run that deep or am I just fooling myself? I cared more than I realized, or maybe it’s some twisted kind of Stockholm syndrome. The more you hurt me, the more I catch myself wanting to fix it, to bend until I break just to keep you close for one more moment before you inevitably go. The next moment I'm strong, never want to hear from you again and ready to move on.
I can’t tell what’s genuine, if this is what real love is, or if it’s just my mind playing a sick joke on me. It’s been over two months and I’m still stuck swinging between feeling strong and crashing into weakness again.
peace and books and sunshine.
August 15, 1926 Journals of Anais Nin 1923-1927 [volume 3]
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