I’ll say it again, We’re in it together.
୨ི୧ Frequently, I villainize myself. I suppose it’s the same as victimizing myself.
Did I love you out of some selfish desire — because you had watched me so long and I had felt desired? Do I love you now, out of some martyr~like savior complex forcing my hand — wanting to prove I’m better, that no one can take that much pain (my most despised feeling in the world) and still say “I love you” and know they mean it?
I know I mean it. I know I do because no matter how pathetic and torn down you make me feel, here I am, hoping to wash your hair and dust fistfuls of grass over your knees.
Your love is equally as selfish as mine, the difference is it’s not directed towards me. And too bad for you, I’ll force the leash into my hands as many times as I need to.
I am a cruel, insufferable, evil woman. I know these things as fact. They aren’t badges of honor or warning labels, simply the ingredients to a cake you could choose to spit out. You haven’t. You’ve chewed until your face got numb then blamed the cake.
The cake blames herself.
Maybe I’m a cigarette; killing people slowly and they keep coming back for more.
I know I’ll always linger in his, in His, and their brains like the buzz after a high.
Is it worth it? Burning me out, taking more of me?
Do I find fun in it? Watching you waste away — knowing you’ll come back eventually?
At least we’re in it, just not together.