I have a lover who’s cruel as cold metal. He feigns warmth and sweetness, creates illusions of love that fill my head with fantasies.
But behind the curtain is something much more disturbing, a demon with a forked tongue, a darkness so inhuman. You think I’m speaking in metaphors, for demons only exist on Hollywood sets.
But I tell the truth.
He’s studied my every thought, emotion, reaction, my weaknesses, he thinks he knows me better than I know my self.
But even demons have weaknesses, and he surely does, for I have studied him too.
I could not simply prove to you that the one who’s bed I crawl into had horns and a pointy tail because he hides behind soft skin and green eyes.
He doesn’t leave bruises or cuts he’s cool and calculated, his weapons far more lethal as he gaslights and fractures my mind subtly without leaving a trace of evidence.
He appears a normal and functioning member of society as he takes the hair from my head as I sleep, he stalks and punishes me with my weakest insecurities.
I don’t expect you to believe me, for I wouldn’t believe what was right in front of my eyes for too long, and I still wish not to believe. Who would want to?
Because, you see, I’ve given my heart away to something evil and I’m in too deep.
I’m not sure if I will escape, for every time I try I’m met with the pain of poison coursing through my veins and my mind slips into darkness. He doesn’t lift a finger, he doesn’t panic because he knows I’ll come right back.
I find myself at all hours yearning for his love but the more I reach for it, the more I’m with him, the more empty I feel.
Tell me how I used to stand tall and healthy, how my eyes would shine and my smile would be radiant and now I am a shell of my former self.
My mental state is broken like a mirror in a thousand pieces. I doubt myself, I hurt myself, I’ve considered that perhaps I’m slipping completely, blaming it on me and my inability to stop feeling so strongly.
A demon, a sociopath, a great manipulator. He has been winning a game of chess I didn’t know I was playing.
I only write this for those who may wonder what’s happened to me, or perhaps are being turned inside out by their own loved ones.
I could stand all of it if I didn’t know better, for there is no happy ending to this story, no changing who he his, no cure for a sociopath who’s only priority is to feed themselves.
If you’ve made it this far perhaps you’re thinking I’ve truly lost my mind. Or maybe you have an eerie shiver running up your spine, afraid of how familiar my words are to your own drained and fractured self.
Take a good look at who you trust, who you love and don’t ignore red flags the way I did.
I’ve romanticized his sick and twisted behavior far too long.
I could have loved him forever, despite it all, until I was nothing, until I was dead.
But he couldn’t stay loyal to even his victim for in my absence he found new, shinier toys to play with.
I’ve been betrayed, lied to, used. But in the end I’m still pure, because that’s just the difference between him and I.
He will roll his eyes if he reads this, smirk and scoff, he will say I’m a ranting woman scorned but I know the truth, I know the sides of him no one else has ever seen.
I know the disgusting thoughts that run through his head, I know he is conscious of the pain he’s caused and I know he will never stop even long after I’ve gone.
He dresses up his words when it suits him and tells me his love for me is like no other, yet he smiles to himself as the blood drips from my wrists and tears leak from my eyes.
He’s taken my appetite for life, for love, for happiness.
I no longer enjoy or value myself, I’ve questioned my own sanity and I’ve prayed to God for the pain to stop.
I hope this finds who needs to hear it and I hope they run, run as fast as they fucking can because it doesn’t get better.
There is no justifying such cruel behavior for someone like him as I’ve feared for so long, is incapable of love, remorse or compassion.
I am nothing but a source of energy for him to feed on until it’s all gone.
Yet I wish I could go back to being blind because the truth is too painful to bare.
I have hope my strength will come back and I will breath again. But if not, if something were to happen to me, I will not have gone silently.