To Limerance: my fleeting love

I don’t think vandalizing your shit will make you want me. It’s fuck me? Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you and your fake love. Fuck you and your broken promises. Fuck your house, fuck your cats. Fuck your stupid smell that once brought me comfort. So yes, I went and I stabbed your tires wishing it was your neck instead. I opened the door and smelt that stupid smell, the smell of you, that I once loved so dearly. I slashed your seats and pissed on them as the cherry on top. I hope you’re pissed.

 I hope you think twice before cheating on another woman. Think twice before slipping your fingers in between the wrinkles of an innocent mind, manipulating them as you please. Think twice before stabbing someone so willingly, whenever their only desire was to ease your pain. Then you turn around and cause them more pain than they already bear.

Did you think you’re the only one who carries the burden of hurt? Well I hope I hurt you. I hope it squeezed your cold dark heart when you saw your precious car devastated. I hope it hurts your pockets- that you cried, because living isn’t easy in this economy and the only relatively nice thing you have has been marked. 

You know you deserved it right? You deserve so much more than the pettines I served you, you poor cold piece of shit, not worth a damn thing. 

At least I know you thought of me. I know it was easy for you to shove me in the back of your mind, as if my love meant nothing. As if I was just a delicacy to devour.

 You see, I can’t always be the bigger person. Not when you step and stomp on something as fragile as my human heart.

You fucking idiot, you probably just think I am fucking crazy, not realizing: every woman you encounter is not someone you can objectify as a simple delight to indulge then discard at your own convenience. 

It’s your fault. Go ahead, burn through the good things that are brought to you,I don’t give a damn. You’re disgusting. You beat on animals, you hurt women emotionally and physically. You live broke, in a sad ugly home with nothing but stains and roaches on the walls. Don’t think I don’t see you for exactly what you are.

You watch porn, addicted to other men receiving sexual pleasure, and you make pedophilic jokes. 

You took enjoyment in sweeping me off my feet, all the while slowly siphoning the oxygen from my lungs. Stripping me of my naivety, my innocence.

 I thoroughly thought what we had  was pure love; my heart skipped beats at your sight, boy, you’d have me breathless. We danced, you sang me love songs; you showed up as my knight and shining armor who was going to protect and provide, save me from the horrors of the world. All just for show huh?

 Little did I know you were killing me; suffocating me with the poisonous infection you harbor within: all for your own gratification, as my emotions for you grew. 

My adoration for you skyrocketed. I saw you with true love. Pure: not mixed or adulterated with any other substance, free of any contamination, wholesomely, untainted by immorality. The mere thought of you warmed my chest. 

I bowed my head in submission to you, and in my hand to you; my heart on a silver platter. I deliberately got rid of every selfish desire to humble myself before you.  Instead of recognizing my act as honorable, the predator in you chose to encode it as weakness, bringing a sword down upon my neck as I kneeled.

I took all your bull shit, your baggage of having nothing, your lying, telling me I’m not enough. Poor me, I was willing to wilt with your demons in your darkness, for the sake of love.

Ah the rollercoaster of death, turbulence mixing feelings of fear, thrill, and the need to vomit; all with your name on it, decorated with flowers and sweet promises of prosper. How melancholically beautiful.

And now, you have another poor unfortunate soul riding this tunnel of illusion.

Welcome! Welcome! Welcome to the Caraval! A fool's paradise! It’s filled with love bombing, sweet nothings, and banners of marriage. Where lines between reality and illusion blur. Ride if you dare fall in love! At first glance, it’s captavating actually. But little do we know, in the fine lines it’s written, “but don’t fall too hard now, who knows if you will be able to get back up.” 

Go ahead Limerance, fill the darkness in your house with your masquerades, where lover girls are made then gruesomely murdered. Keep up with your little facade, ornament your home to appear it attractive. But know, I know, you’re fraudulent. A pathetic human being, hiding behind counterfeit pride. You’re lonely and diminutive. God you can’t even muster up enough courage to tell the damn truth. You need a woman to feed your ego. To make you feel somewhat of a man because you’re so damn insecure. Let’s face it, we both know you couldn’t amount to it, even though you direly wish to. 

What you fail to realize Limerance, is that masculinity doesn’t feed off femininity, devouring it, sucking it dry until there is nothing left. Instead, it protects it.

 This makes you a killer. A menacing, ugly, destructive killer. May you turn to God before you yourself become devoured.

 Or maybe, you’ve already drowned. 

Watch your back Limerence, or you might die.