You’re an obsession I can’t stop, an addiction I can’t quit.
You control my actions in ways you wish you knew. Like freshly made clay, I
would be putty in your hands if I allowed myself to show you my greatest
weakness. Your being is my Achilles heel. You make me weak; my head spins, my
stomach flutters, and my heart drops to my ankles every single time our eyes
meet. You’re perfection in my eyes, your flaws nonexistent the moment I lay my
eyes on you. Your weaknesses are but misplaced strengths and undiscovered
power. You are the exception to the rules. My standards are no longer a figment
of my imagination; they are physical, tangible, touchable. They have morphed
into a spitting image of you. You have interwoven yourself ever so gently into
every fabric of my existence. I am now incomplete without you. My survival
determinant on whether or not you breathe your sweet breath into my collapsing
lungs.
What is it exactly? What do you possess that causes me to be
the Eve who destroyed the garden of paradise? Is it your fruit? Are you so
lusciously delicious, my taste buds can’t help but desire more of you? Is it
your look? Are you so enticingly exquisite that my eyes can’t help but take in
your radiance? Or is it your nutrients? Are you just so invigoratingly healthy
that my body becomes more balanced the more I surround myself with your supplements?
No, it’s not any of those. You really aren’t that good looking, and let’s be
honest, your “skills” are a little lacking. You don’t really make me feel
better, and you don’t inspire me to be a better person. In fact, you don’t
challenge me at all. You actually bring out the worst in me. When I’m around
you, I’m that girl. You know the one. The desperate, insecure,
emotionally-driven, attention-seeking googlie eyed annoyance that everyone
makes fun of.
What is it then? What about you has me so dependent,
obsessed, addicted, caught up? Nothing. At least nothing you’ve done. Just like
Eve, I fell for the lie behind the fruit, not the fruit itself. I fell in love
with an idea of a reality that will always be a fantasy because boys like you
rarely turn into the prince girls like me dream about. Your only part in this
tragic love story is that you were lucky enough to find me when I was hungry;
hungry for love, attention, affection, security. Like Eve, I wondered off in
desperate search for something to fill me up. I just so happened to fall onto
your path. You were glowing. I looked you straight in your eyes and knew. I
knew you were going to be my cure. I’m not sure if Eve bit the fruit like I
did. She might have been cautious, analyzing it, making sure there were no
bumps, bruises, deformities, worms. Not me. I devoured the fruit like I was a
famished orphan. I dove head first into your ocean of lies, ignorant of the
fact that the water below didn’t resemble the pictures we often see on websites
depicting a honeymoon in paradise. No, this water was deep, dark, cold, and strong.
Like a paddleboat lost in a hurricane, I was destined for disaster. Your lies
and my insecurities did a hell of a job. They tag teamed, and as you know. Two
is always better than one. I lost the battle, and in losing that battle I lost
parts of myself I never knew I had. Parts of myself that were so special,
sacred, unique, and beautiful. The moment I fell in love with you, was the
moment I fell out of love with myself. As my love for you grows, my hate for
myself doubles. But don’t think its over. As the saying goes, you may have won
the battle, but you didn’t win the war. The war was for my soul. You might have
stolen my body, broken my heart, silenced my voice, and stomped on my character,
but you can never have my mind. And because of that, you will never possess my
soul. As much as every part of my body desires just one more taste, embrace,
moment, memory, my mind knows your fruit caused my world to hide behind a bush
when God came calling. But just like Eve, I get a second chance at life. My
heart might have fallen for your words, my body for your looks, and my character
for your actions, but my mind is incapable of completely falling for your lies.
So don’t flatter yourself. It’s not you I fell in love with; it was the lies
the fantasy told.
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