He.

He. He is what I crave. He is bad for me. He is all I can think about. He is what I need. He consumes my every thought. He.

Who is he? He changes everyday. When he looks at me I feel as though I’m floating on air. Walking on water.

He makes me feel wanted. He pleases me. He is wrong. He is everywhere. No one knows who he is. He is mine.

Weren’t not exclusive. I create fake people to try to make him jealous. It never works. I want him. But does he really want me?

He makes me crazy. He makes me do things I would never dream of. I’m obsessed. I don’t really know who I am anymore. He scares me. I am in love, or so I think.

My feelings change with every blink of an eye. When I hear that ringtone, that one special tone, my heart drops, sometimes so far that I fear I might not find it again. I’m scared.

I hate this, but I can’t stop it. It’s an addiction that I crave.

Attention. Oh what a sweet thing. I need it, I worship it, and the person who gives it, becomes my obsession. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know why I’m like this.

A connection with anyone else seems wrong, seems strange. And yet ours seems right. It is wrong, it is bad.

Our acts are lawbreaking, but who am I to say no to you. I am a good girl, perfect grades, sweet, kind, a lawbreaker. How does that fit into my description? I hate it, but I can’t change it.

I’m in too deep now. I can’t find my way out. I always come back. I hate that I do.

What is the solution? Well if I knew, I probably wouldn’t use it. I’m addicted. He’s my kryptonite. I hate him, but I also can’t get enough. I can’t stop, no matter how hard I try. I want him.

I need him. I loathe him.

I need the connection, maybe it doesn’t matter who it’s with. Maybe. Just maybe. I just need something. What if it’s not him. He treats me bad. I don’t feel good, I just like the connection.

Someone who tells me “hey baby” and “I want you. Who doesn’t want that sort of thing? I ask for attention, and he gives it.

He says “ send me a picture I’m horny” I say “ yes”. I hate it. That’s not me. I am a good girl. A lawbreaking good girl. I don’t want to be like this, and yet I am. I’ve lost who I am.

When he doesn’t reply, doesn’t open the message after just a minute, I fear that I’ve done something wrong. I become anxious, I become scared. That is not me.

I am carefree. But with him, I am not. This isn’t love. I don’t know what is anymore.