I thought that when I grew older, things would change. That I would fall in love and be swept away. I know now that love doesn't exist. In desperation I grasped at what I thought was love but that turned out to be the wrong thing. He didn't love me. Never did. All he wanted was a slave. Someone to cook and clean and fill his every need. And what he needed most of all was to hurt. To cause as much pain and agony as he could without killing. Sometimes I wish he had lost control and really killed me. Instead I died inside. Day by day and year by year he killed everything I was until there was nothing left to kill. Then he discarded me like last week's trash. Broken and useless.
Then another comes along and tells me that I a worthwhile person. He hunts until he finds that tiny little piece I hid so deep that I didn't even know it was there. And he fans it back to life. I suffered through the agony of coming alive again. Once more I learned to hope and dream. Then I finally gather the last bit of my courage and try to tell him how I feel. To tell him of the love that has come alive inside of me. Of finding the one thing I was sure didn't exist. I should have known.
Love isn't what he wants. Or not my love. So once again I die piece by piece. The heart he brought to life will still again. Unwanted, unloved, useless. Again I suffer pain and agony. This time of my soul dieing. Never again will I allow someone inside of me. Never again will I feel a kind touch. Because now I know and have accepted that for me love truly doesn't exist. And never will. I've accepted that like my love, my life is unwanted, unloved, and useless. And so even though I will so nothing to end it, I also will do nothing to extend it further. Let it end when it will.