I find the futility of my struggle slightly amusing, the way i fight tooth and nail kicking and screaming all the way, guns blazing, like some kind of a hero.
A hero. Thats what people used to call me, no, thats not quite right, what I am now, this, monstrosity i have been cursed to be is nothing close to the hero everyone once believed in, that man died, of unknown causes but I know what killed the hero of this story. Love, love killed him. A thousand times over, it never let him go, and he was a fool for believing each time could be different but love ends the same for all, love is a 99% occurrence of eventually one sidedness and betrayel, and someone is always hurt, and almost never the one who ends things. I remember every relationship ive ever had. The number is, many, regrettably. I can count how many i had been the one to actually end things, that number is 3. In my, 5? Years of dating, i have ended things 3 times. Yet, what of the others? Its simple really, they left. And not one who has ever ended things with me has had the common courtesy of a phone call or an honest reason. After the last person who left me, i just stopped believing in people, in the promises they made i began expecting that everyone will leave me behind the way she did, and its that that scares me, its how easy she made it look, if its that easy for her and everyone else why wouldn’t it be hard for someone i trust most? What do i do then? Its futile for me to struggle anymore it truly is, why fight a war you know you’ve already lost.