artThis loneliness is all I know.Here you are.
I'm torn not because I miss the pain and annoyance and the insults, but because it became a habit. Like heroin. Like alcohol. You get used to it. It becomes part of you, an integral part of your life, even if it's a negative influence in your life. Never mind the negative parts, you miss the safety of it being in your life. This is strange. I am torn.
So you can see I am not so torn that I am not celebrating, because I assure you I am celebrating. And so should you.
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He always accused me of keeping secrets. How funny. He worked so hard to wring it out of me, to drive it out of me, to make me confess all my terrible sins, to exorcise my terrible demons. He was certain I had miserable sins to confess. How he was so certain I'm not sure. He just knew there had to be juicy details I was withholding. He just knew there had to be deep dark secrets in my past and present life that had to be told. To him.
And him alone. When I refused to divulge a dark secret, or two, he pushed harder. Threatening me if I didn't confess and denounce. I continued to refuse. What did I have to divulge? A sexual secret of torrid love. A nasty plot against him. Lots of nasty plots against him. A dark secret so evil that he was dying to uncover it.
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That's ok. I like that about you. I think about men all the time. So I guess you could say I have a man's mind. Sex. Men. Male strength turns me on, just as I'm sure feminine soft beauty turns men on.
You pull me close, and you do it just forcefully enough for me to notice. I can tell you want me. Your urgency is apparent and I love it. No need to be half-way. Be aggressive and show me. Show me you know what you want. I'll respond by showing you that I want that too.
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Why was I so compliant? My life had no meaning. I was no one. He could provide some substance for me. He could do this for me. I was sure of it. He could give me the thoughts I needed and the viewpoints I sorely missed on my own. He knew exactly what I needed and what I should be doing all the time. I let him guide me. He inserted everything into me he could. Thoughts. Ideas. Viewpoints. Demands. Penis.
This is what I ended up looking like. This is the unveiling. This is the reveal. Bleeding.
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end
It would be sad
should I say
And now I am a shadow of my former self. I am different. I am myself again.
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Smashing everything and everyone I liked was also a hobby. Later I figured out it wasn't so much that he was jealous of the people and things I directed my affections toward, but rather he was angry at me and felt the need to smash everything I liked in a roundabout way of smashing me. He had a lot of venom inside of him.
It happened time and time again, yet each time I never expected it. I always thought this would be the time things would be ok. They never were.
This artwork represents each of us as black seething entities that have so much red soreness between us that we will never touch, we will never come together. Never again.
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