“TO: Skinny love, my ex-boyfriend What happened? I destroyed myself by loving. I lived 6…”

TO: Skinny love, my ex-boyfriend What happened? I destroyed myself by loving. I lived 6 years, 6 short years trying to love you in the only way I knew how at the time. It happened so fast. I fell in love with you, so graciously sweet our story began. 6 years of everyday giving every part I possibly could, every part of me I had left, every part you helped me regrow within myself; every cell, every breathe, my emotions, my pain, my joys, my brokenness, my words, my silence, my chaos, my soul, my entire being to finally find I was living in my own world of this illusion of love, it was all so real to me. I gave my all to someone to only have it all be a lie into the end, but my truth. Everything FUCKS with me, every piece of me. I no longer have, I no longer am. When someone that connects the dots between my past with him tells me information concerning him, information that I'm not ready for, it's a fucking reminder that nothing is real; it was all a dream. A figment of my imagination, but when he keeps coming back because I pull and pull and I tug and tug until he emerges from his sobriety and has taken the needle to his arm. He only then answers my cries of phone calls. He cries his eyes out to me, I know it's all lies, temporary for him. I will go sober again soon, but fuck if it's not the most goddamn beautiful FUCKING lie and I know it, but fuck, I'm going to believe every beautiful fucking lie he tells me because that's all I ever wanted to be true and every lie he speaks, every tear he sheds disappears just as quick as they came. Every beautiful tear was never wet; every word he spoke remains a lie and I'm left to hang by my own self demise. It's so tragically beautiful that I can't stop, so again I pull and pull and tug and tug. It's so tragically beautiful that I can't stop because it's the only thing that makes me feel alive. It's the only way I feel I'm worth something; listening to those beautiful words grow from those tears he sheds. I could lay in this beautiful hell forever and eternity. It's a punishment to my own. This is my doings & my ruins and I am my own punching bag. Repeat the cycle and he emerges again from sobriety to the poison that numbs his pains, his struggles, he gives me what I deserve and I feel alive and full of hope, but ready for the pain to creep in because it's always the same, it never ends any different but I'm also an addict and I'm addicted to him. The man I met that night that never existed. He was everything and I'll always search for him in the darkest of places. I love you. Now who will love me? Come On Skinny love.