Love Addict

I love you the way a heroin addict loves getting high.

Honestly, what I’m feeling probably doesn’t even equate to love. Yes, I get weak in the knees at the slightest touch. A single word from you will plaster a dumb smile on my face and the thought of you gives me butterflies from the bottom of my stomach. But that’s not really love. That’s just the chemicals in my brain pumping dopamine whenever you come up. It’s an addiction, and when you’re gone, I suffer from the withdrawal symptoms. I feel empty, the world starts to lack color, I feel miserable, and I crave you constantly.

Now I am at that stage where I love you, but I am already disillusioned with you. I realize that you’re more than just a drug to me, you are poison. I love you but I wish I never met you. You bring out the worst in me, I’ve begun to act and feel in ways I would have never imagined in the past. I love you so much I lowered my standards to tolerate your behavior. It’s hard to stay in the puppy love phase when you’ve made it so blatantly obvious how you feel about me.

I know that I am not a priority to you

I know that I am a distraction for you

I know that I am just a body to keep your bed warm

You don’t see me, you don’t know me, and you don’t think about me.

Yet I love you. I wish that I didn’t because you never deserved my love in the first place. I never asked to feel this way about you. I feel like an addict that wants to quit, hating themselves for being unable to and then keeps getting high again.

I know you’re bad for me. I know you’re a poison that is slowly killing me inside. I want to quit you so badly, but I cannot bring myself to do it. I lost you before, the withdrawal symptoms were almost unbearable. The mere thought of you would crush me and I thought about you constantly. Everything reminded me of you. I did everything in my power to erase you and I couldn’t. It took three weeks for me to finally decide to truly let go of you. It was the first time I felt the ability to heal and move on, but then you reached out to me and I relapsed.

I wanted you to want me. I wanted to possess you and for you to fee the way about me the way I do about you. But I recognized that this will never happen. Your actions have made it blatantly obvious what I am to you. They say things are not black and white, but to me this is.

If he really loved me, he would think about me. If he thought about me, he would reach out to me more. If he wanted to be with me then he would just do it. There is no grey area. You either love someone or you don’t, and if you really loved a person you would show it. You don’t ignore a person who you love. He only ever consistently messaged me when he wanted something from me. In person, we didn’t even talk much. He doesn’t want to get to know me. He doesn’t care about me. It’s painfully obvious my feelings grossly outweigh his. There are no rose-colored glasses. There are no excuses. I see this “relationship” exactly for what it is and yet I still choose to endure it. I am miserable more than I am happy, but when I am happy I am so unbelievably happy that I tolerate being miserable the majority of time just for those brief moments.

He was the spark that ignited my soul. He was connected to everything that I loved. He hooked me in the very beginning by seeming to be enamored with me. It was his intellect, the things he would talk about. I was smitten with the fact that we met at a coffee shop, walked around the park and pontificated over books at a bookstore. He talked about philosophy and religion with me, nothing anyone has done before. I never connected with a man with shared interests like that before. I realize now that I created a fantasy man. I loved the idea of him, not the man himself. The man I interact with now is not that man I remember originally falling for. They wear the same face, but everything else is different. Gone is the man I spent hours talking with, who hung onto my every word. What initially attracted me to him is now gone. Although people are far more complex than that. I am sure he’s still the intellectual person I initially met, I just realize I will rarely if ever see that side to him anymore. Because all I am now is just someone to keep his bed warm.

I wish I knew what he was thinking.

I wish he thought about me.

I wish he loved me the way I needed to be loved.

I wish I was a priority to him.

I wish I wasn’t the only one feeling this way.

I wish I could just quit him.

I wish I never met him.

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