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He loved me and I barely think about him anymore. My memories are blurred and it was cool to have someone care about me so much but I struggle to remember most of it, I guess that’s a good thing when I dont want the past to distract me from my future anymore.
I’m happy and I hope he was be too, I doubt he was but some people are just cursed with bad lives and worse luck. I always knew what would happen and my thoughts that he told me were cynical came true, I think selfishly thought that it’s better I was right.
I think selfishly I could never have been happy with him; he wanted more love than I can give, he wanted to drink it like it was the only thing keeping him alive but as he drained me I shrivelled up until I finally started closing off my supply so he went and fucking died.
I could lie in bed and cry, I did for a while when it happened but the wound was so fresh I didn’t even see I had been looking for a way out for most of that year so in a way I’m happy he’s dead.
I miss how we used to talk, I think the good times were something beautiful, two twisted souls wrapping together into something dark and terrifying but the bad times we struck at each other with blinding lightning as it rained from above. I don’t know if the good cancelled out the bad but it was exhausting to basically coddle him like I was his mother who is somehow over two decades younger but in some ways it made me feel like a god to have such power over him, he died for me and there’s nothing more delightful than that.
His body was cold by the time I heard, found in the river he used to go to cry at, his tears could have filled it when we fought. The whole area has been blocked off for months now but everyone seems to have forgotten he ever existed, even his own family, I wonder if his cat even forgot but I think she loved him more than I do now so if anyone remembers him she does as she lays with her new owner after being adopted from the nearby shelter.
The body isn’t him, he was more than the flesh his soul was confined to and now that all the colour has leaked out I don’t even go to the funeral, his body has no more significance to me than the plucked headless chicken corpses for sale in the local corner shop.
I still think of him but mainly so I don’t forget too much, I don’t want to forget the way I was desired, the way he almost drooled over my body and how he didn’t even ask before taking me. I let him do anything he wanted to me, that was the cost of being irresistible I have been told by every man I have ever known from my own father to even my teachers. Sometimes I wish I could shave off all my ash blonde hair and slash a knife across my face, over and over until there’s nothing human left, nothing human to steal from me but even cutting on my limbs had me thrown in a ward for at least a week at a time.
He took my blood, he took my breath, he took my heart and he took my soul but what did I get from him? His life when he realised I had teeth and could tear up the reputation he had built as a somewhat respectable man in our community, he made mistakes sure but everyone could forgive a few abuse allegations so long as he targeted “crazy” women such as drug addicts and delusional teenagers who go out in just enough clothes to avoid a public nudity charge and think that will make the popular boys like them, sometimes it works but mostly it just ends in the boys thinking they can get away with rape.
I think men are just overgrown impulsive children with a sex drive, I think that makes them more animal than human, I think that makes them dangerous.