I Know What You Want And Ill Be It For You. Ill Be Your Man. I Can Be Your Man. I Can Be Firm And Tough.

I know what you want and I’ll be it for you. I’ll be your man. I can be your man. I can be firm and tough. I can be your rock, I can be the one you lean on. I know I’ve got long hair, but I’ll cut it if you want. If it’s not enough, I’ll come back in another life. I’ll come back for you. In another form, the type that you want. I will cross time and death and the rules of society and whatever else it takes to reach you again. To love you again. This time, I’ll do it in the way I always wanted to.

My heart shudders as you mention your ex. Your ex boyfriend, you say. I still have hope. Some people like both. But part of me knows: you will never see me that way. When you told me, I was looking at your lips. Not looking—longing at them, desiring at them. I want them. I want your lips, I want your flesh, I want you. I force myself to look away. Where else can I look? It can’t be you. It can’t be at you. Every part of you makes me want you the same. I leave the room slowly. I can’t ever be near you again. I am sorry, my dearest friend. I wish I could hear you talking without looking at your lips. I wish I could be your friend without wanting your kiss.

I starve. I become emaciated. Don’t you understand? I only long for what cannot fulfill me. I only crave what cannot feed me.

She is an angel. I am sure of it. I was so close to death, toeing the line, drifting further and further into the darkness with each passing day. You could hardly tell the difference between me and a ghost. My body was fading along with my life. But then, I saw her face. I looked into her eyes which restored my pale skin to a fruitful, revitalized color. I felt her skin, warm and beating, against mine, and I felt alive again. Maybe more alive than I had ever been from the start. I heard her voice, filled with the rarest, truest essence of life, something that could not be found in anyone else. Her laughter—the sweetest, most wild sound that filled any room it embodied—made me whole again. made me holy again. She restored me, she made me alive. She created me.

Love is consumption. Love devours. Love eats. The allure of someone takes up my entire life, fills in all of the empty space and clears out what was already there too. I do not see anyone, I see the object of my desire. I want, I want, I want. It takes so much out of me. Desire, for me, is enormous. It hurts. I stop breathing. My heart pumps blood more slowly. Love takes over my body like some sort of parasite. It takes and takes and takes until I am empty, dissolving into nothing.

Every single month I am like “wow why am I going insane? I actually want to k*ll myself. I cannot be alive. I cannot do anything. I am the loneliest person in the entire universe.” And then I look at my tracker and it’s like “period in 1 day”