I had an addiction once. The addiction of crazy misunderstood unconditional pain. All I wanted was him for me and me for him but we were positive and negative ions. The closer I got to him the futher he pulled away. The harder I tried to ignore the fact that I wasn’t what he wanted the futher he stuck the knife in my chest. But I wanted to feel that pain for fear that I wouldn’t feel anything at all. Serving my heart on a plater wasn’t good enough for him, no. He wanted to taste it.
I offered him the world still he insisted on money, fame, and infatuation. What could I do to change his mind? I cried until I was all cried out; I cooked, cleaned, I even continued to see him after the fact I knew about his many other women. Was this the way I knew to love? No, it was an addiction to pain. My addiction to this unsustainable pain.
