Love Is Not Real

I love you so much. Being with you is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I never knew that love could be so controlling, so manipulative, and so hurting. I didn’t know that love came in a tiny black package with a sticker saying “DO NOT OPEN”.

I love you so much. Being with you is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I never knew that love could be so controlling, so manipulative, and so hurting. I didn’t know that love came in a tiny black package with a sticker saying “DO NOT OPEN”. Is it all supposed to be like this? Am I supposed to cry every night? Things used to be so wonderful. You used to love me like I was a person, not just another fucking dyke. Now you love me like a toy. I’m a doll to you. Wind me up and I’ll say the same damn things I’ve said for the past year again and again. Welcome to my life, where my girlfriend’s wishes are my every fucking command. I wish I were perfect, I wish you would love me. I’m the razor and you’re the bloodthirsty cutter. You tear and slash me apart all over, then slowly lick my wounds clean. I’m the depressant; you’re my sickness and my medication. You make breathing unbearable, then turn around and filter the fucking air. You make me stop cutting, but the way you treat me makes me want to fucking die. I’ve given myself to you completely, and the entire time I’ve only been fed lies. I went with you, thinking you could fix my life. Thinking you would take away my sorrows, throw away my razors and fix my tattered, broken, worthless life. You were the one person who was supposed to make it all right. But as time went on, I saw that you were the one wanting to hurt me. Your intentions were all wrong. I have learned my lesson. Is my suffering not enough for you? Beat me, bruise me, fuck me up some more. I’m nothing but a girl with a problem for making every little thing turn into something big. So let me get rid of this problem now. I’m too stupid for you? Do I not lick your pussy well enough for your satisfaction? Here, let me take that razor to my wrist. Let me stick the barrel to my head and pull the trigger. I’ve been longing for something to push me over the edge for way too long already. I’m worthless anyway, so does it matter? Will one life fucking matter? When I’m gone, will you look at my pictures and wonder whatever happened to that girl I fell in love with so long ago? The one I promised everything to? Yeah, remember, that’s me. The one who fucking died for you.

By DeathAwaitsMe

I'm 15 years old, I live in Amarillo, Texas. I'm a lesbian. I have no friends, and I love to write.