(and, hey, don't read it if you don't want - its just a dark love story)
DEPRESSION
He doesn’t use the doorbell but still I know he’s there,
patiently waiting for me to open the door and invite him in. And so, of course,
I do. He stands there, beautiful and seductive as always in his black suit with
no tie. His white shirt is unbuttoned just enough to be tantalizing. Barefoot.
Dark hair touselled like he’s been running rough fingers through it. His mouth is
twisted into a wry smile that promises so much pain. His head is bowed just
slightly, his dark hair hiding eyes that I know carry all of my bleakest
thoughts. He’s a dark angel and I’m drawn to his power. He’s better than the
best sex. Just looking at him makes me hurt.
I back up and let him in.
He steps close, so close that I can feel the softness of his
breath on my skin, and he wraps his icy arms around me and draws me against
him. His lips brush my ear in a gentle kiss and he whispers the words I’ve been
waiting to hear.
“Fat. Ugly. Cow. Stupid. Loser. Friendless. Worthless.
Hopeless. Alone.”
I know these words so well, as well as I know him – my dark
dangerous love. If I had the strength, I would send him away, but instead I
press closer. My body fits against his as if it was made to rest there. I want him.
I always want him.
I haven’t missed him. I’ve missed him desperately. He’s my poison.
He’s my pleasure. He is, above all else,
home.
He steps away and I am bereft. I need his touch – the void
of emptiness, so full of dark emotion. I need it like a starving man needs
food. He shuts the door behind him and takes my hand. His touch enfolds me, encompasses me, envelops me. He leads me into
the house. We settle down together on the couch, as close as we can get, but it
can’t be close enough. It's never close enough.
“Disgusting. Gross. Repulsive. Unloveable.”
His words are a melody that draws me in – a song that is all
mine. He’s written it for me and me alone. And then he says my favorite words again,
the words I’ve been waiting for, the words that are my life. “Ugly. Unloved. Loser.”
Magic. Such dark beautiful magic. He knows just how to please
me. The ice of his grip turns painful and it’s wonderful. Joyous. I want more.
This is where I belong. I can never get close enough. He can never cause enough
pain. He is so beautiful to me.
He stays with me as long as I need him. He’s always there
with a torturous touch, or the bite of a word, or a knife to my chest. He cradles me in his arms at
night and whispers to me until I sleep. He feeds on my tears and my
hopelessness. He knows just how to hurt me. He knows just how to make me feel.
And I feel so much when I’m with him.
If he stays, he’ll destroy me.
Ours is not a healthy relationship. It’s unforgiving and
dark, and it consumes me. The emotions are too strong. The words too painful. His
touch too sensitive to my skin. It burns. The darkness is too all-encompassing. His words draw blood and I'm already so bloody. I'm tired. I
need more….
I need light.
It is the one thing he cannot give me.
It’s heartbreaking. It’s enlightening. It’s freeing.
I wake one morning and he’s waiting by the door. His warm gaze meets mine and that crooked smile is there. It doesn't move me. I’ve had my fill of him. His words are burned into me - a reminder of all I know. They
won’t disappear for a long time. He’s fulfilled my every need. I'm ready to let him go
for now. I’ll be okay without him.
I might even learn to enjoy the light.
Once he’s gone, I tack his picture on the wall with the
countless pictures of him. I do this each time he’s visited. I want to remember
him. I need to remember him. My walls are so full of his face, a memorial to
his empty beauty, that there’s no space for anything else. I can never forget
him. I don’t want to ever forget him. But I can go on without him and I will be
better for it.
He’ll be back the next time I need him.
His quiet strength is always there, ready to pull me into the
darkness of his embrace. His cruel lips are waiting to bring me the ultimate
pleasure. Pain.
And that’s what depression is like for me. - Karen
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