Hurt me first, so I know how you don't want to feel

Drowning in envy over the way she writes, expressions relative to me. Remembering of the demons I’ve kept hidden. Inspiring me to create something relatively in manner so she can relate to me, drawing her closer to me. Her outer beauty created such a infatuation inside of me, drawing me closer to her. Not really knowing anything about this soul, other then what she had wrote in her poems and stories, infatuation starts to grow into something more, fascinated with the way she presents herself, almost like a reflection of myself.. I become amazed, to say the least. Her vocabulary surely exceeding my own, though what I lack in grammar..
I make up with great emotion and realization. Although most of it is garbage to the rest of the world, she loves what I create.

We transpire in a bitter feud, not between ourselves, though of someone criticizing her of something I’ve created.. which in turn, Gives me something I never wanted… a lot of people focused on me… I only cared about her critique, and really didn’t give a flying fuck if people liked it or not. For her liking it, she got the backlash of hate, that was a whole misunderstanding of my creativity.. which at the time, she was the only one that understood what I had created. She egged me on, to create more art based on the hate and publicity. Though in my mind, I would rather preferred hiding in the deep dark corner of cyberspace with her, conversing and getting to know one another better. Unlike her, I do not enjoy drama. Though the mishap did bring us closer, she told me I’d have a following by the end of the dilemma, which she was right.. she followed.

Getting to know her was quite a different experience, then what I had expected.. I never knew she was attracted to me, though she made it very clear to me that she was, as I were to her. Trying to keep things proper, trying my best to be a gentlemen, she would tear my walls down with words of lust.. manifesting inside me, raw emotions of the past.. with women that just wanted me for how I looked using me for their pleasures of beauty, then be done with me. I did not want that to happen again, for being used, abused, and discarded was how I was normally treated. I played cat and mouse, digging deeper inside to express the feelings I had conjured in the short time to bring her down to my level, so that there were no misunderstandings of where I had been, where I was, and where I wanted to go. She started to become scared of who I was… for she always said that I have a beautiful soul. I never really understood why she was scared. I was always there for her, to bring her up when she was down.. a crazy obsession occurred somewhere in this process, that both of us were blinded by. I had many name’s over a period of time. She had named me sunshine, because I would brighten up her days. She would call me suga, I suppose because I was so sweet to her.. then at one point of mania I was an asshole, that she yelled at saying that she never wanted to speak to me ever again and that I should forget about her. Pushing me away, as she would always say she would do to me.. I disappeared giving her what she had wanted, no more of me. Later to find out that she really didn’t want me to go, she had started crying and became upset.. i returned days later to receive an apology telling me that she didn’t ever want me to go, that she needed me.

Complications of life always seem to show up, god has a funny way of making things happen that you never expect.. people’s true colors show, and other people are blinded by those colors of illusions and fantasy. The hope that I had, turned into despair, and the truths that I told were slowly becoming lies.. out of spite, hate, jealousy, disgust, and anguish. The beautiful soul that I once had, died. What was left from it all was a cowardly me, not giving into her and what she needs, attention. I would not care, for she had stopped caring for me… then in realization, I figured out why she was scared of me. Because she did to me, what she thought I would do to her. Though I think to myself..
she did it to me, so I wouldn’t do it to her.

Fair enough, I’d rather be in pain… then have her feel how I feel.
I guess I kept one of the promises

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