What Makes You A Monster

What hurts the fuckin' most about all of this? Is that I was a ruse. I was absolutely nothing to you. For a year and a fucking half, I spent the happiest time I'd ever had on this rotten fucking planet, because of a lie. Do you know how that makes you feel like? Like you weren't even good enough for the truth.

It's like saying;

"Oh yeah. I love you oh so much. I'd do anything for you, except actually love you. Lemme lie  to you, and use your honest to god fucking love for me, just for a little laugh."

Do you know what that fucking feels like? After it's over? It feels like you've been shat on, but it's okay, because you still love that person.

Oh but you try, oh you try so hard to convince yourself that you don't love them anymore, that it's so easy to fucking move on. But you know really all to well that it isn't going to be easy. Now it's going to be like being shat on by the person you love, every time you think of moving on. It's going to feel like someone is shoving a fucking chainsaw through your goddamn heart whilst being shat on. And whilst being shat on and stabbed, you look up, or you go online, and you see the person who you love PERFECTLY HAPPY. It's like being shat on twice as much.

And then guess what happens? Then, you try and flirt with anyone. You try to feel warm again by being close to anyone who would even look at you. You need to be NEEDED. And then, you do stupid things. You fuck up. And you look back and you think, how the hell did I screw everything up? And then you realize... you'd rather be lied to than know the truth. Because at least when your being lied to... you can be happy. Because the truth is never, ever better than a lie. No matter how good the truth is, no matter how great it actually is? A lie will always best it. Because a lie can be anything. A lie is an idea. A lie is love. Love is a painful truth. Because it makes you believe lies much easier.

And fuck me man, it makes you feel terrible. Than you realize that... you've become less than what you really are. You tell yourself that you're fine. You're okay. Just the same as you were before, like nothing happened. And you sink...

You sink farther and farther...

Drugs...

Alcohol...

You sink until nothing is left.

There is no you.

And then it happens again.
And again.
And again.

The one you loved? Has made you into a monster.