You are an addiction to me.

When you call me "baby", "doll", "pet", "pretty", most importantly "yours". I think of you constantly. I obsess over you and your affections. You plague my mind.

Would you think this is cute? Would you think I am pretty right now? Would you like this movie, or book? I have to use the limited information I have of you to assume.

I need you injected in my veins. Maybe your name is really "Heroin". I am an addict. You are no good for me, you don't care for me, I am insignificant to you, But I come crawling back. Ashamed and alone. I come back thinking you will be the person I actually need.

But you continue being yourself, and I stay anyway, because an awful part of me find comfort in the discomfort, in your bruteness, in your intensity.

I wish you never spoke to me. I wish I never replied. I wish you were honest from the start.

"I have the intention to strip you bare, mentally and physically. I have no intentions to help, or even care about you. I will simply use you. Because you are easy, you are weak, you are lonely, you are pathetic, and those factors make you stay. I am only nice and kind for now to keep you tethered to me."

.... But who knows what the fuck you think. Why did you have to talk to me? Why didn't you walk away when you knew I was 15 at the time? Why didn't I, when I knew you were 48? What is wrong with me? Why can't I be normal...

I feel immense shame. Did I even realise what I was getting myself into when I accepted your follow request....

All I ever wanted was someone to care, all i wanted was a friend, but I seem to never, ever, ever get that... I don't know if I love you or hate you more.