You never taught me to want; to long for more. I was raised up like cattle, given all I thought I needed and told to be happy with it, and I was, for I did not know there was more.
I want more. I want to be, I want to struggle, I want to experience the fruits of my labour.
I want to be the daughter I wish you raised.
I turn twenty, but do I really? I'd argue I've only been alive for the past year or so; a painful becoming of oneself as I grow too fast for my shell and thus contort and tear and bruise and break.
I feel; I know I am here.
No matter the pain, I fear death. I urge myself to persist despite it all, and the most difficult part of finding myself has been the notion that there is now something to lose.
I live like fire; I tear, I gnaw, I love like this trip ends tomorrow.
It never does, yet it never fades - thus I go again to tear and gnaw and love, over and over.
I don't grow tired of it. I can't. It is my purpose to pursue so passionately, for the fire may die out.
You think you know someone, but you don't. Or you do - a facet of them they present merely to lure you in. She was like that.
She tore off pieces of me; pulled them apart for inspection and discarded that which she deemed unsatisfactory. She put who I was up on display for me, morphed and crumbling, and claimed she was me all along.
This dance would go on for eternity. Not in armchairs with her taking notes, or at a cafe sipping coffee, but with her pulling me along as she sped through her life. It was visceral. It was the soles of my feet aching as they pounded against concrete. It was the suffocation of second-hand cigarette smoke. It was losing myself as she took turn after turn while I clawed at the chance to keep up.
She tore off a piece I couldn't live without. She didn't know this. I didn't know this. It was some undescribable, fundamental aspect of my core that I couldn't put into words for you even if I wanted to (and believe me, I do). She had stolen something from me, and I wanted it back.
I ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■. I couldn't have fathomed doing such a thing before I met her. This was the natural escalation of our dance. I let myself be pliable for her, what would she do now?
She backed down.
A real fucking shame.
She claimed she had no idea things would get this far; that she had no idea what she was doing, but we both know that isn't true. Don't back out! You taught me this!
I wanted it. You wanted it. Where's your bite now? Seeing your eyes widen as they darted between mine and the blade pointed at you was beautiful. They showed me how you felt as I sprawled myself out for you, a corpse to contort and critique and humiliate. I felt alive.
You think you know someone, but you don't. I was like that.
I left the next day.
i understand now.
that power
that control
it is a rush
unlike any other.
i crave and i crave
that power
that control
it ruins me
like you did