My first love was my best friend. He made me what I am today. He helped me survive my abusive mother. He was absolutely everything to me. But when high school ended, and the time came for me to look to him for strength in defying my mother and breaking free to go to college, he called me selfish, weak and stupid for depending on his emotional support. He got himself a girlfriend, the kind that has to serial date and collected the different kinds of boyfriends for fun (nerdy boyfriend, the one daddy disapproves of, the interracial couple achievement). I told him he was just being collected, and that she didn’t really care for him, which she had told me. He called me a jealous c*** and didn’t speak to me again.
This was almost eight years ago now, and I still wake up sobbing because I’ve dreamed of him again. What I really want to do is lock him in a small, dark, cold room for 15-20 years, where he is physically and emotionally assaulted day in and day out. Then make him feel like I am the only light, warmth and comfort he will ever see. When he begs me to free him, to take him out of there, to help him escape, I would just pat his head like he is a little child and tell him that there is no escape, and he’s a stupid, weak, selfish little c*** for thinking I would ever help him, before slamming the shutters down and leaving him alone in the pit for the rest of his life.
At least then I’ll know that he knows how I felt. I would know where he was, so I never had to worry about him trying to contact me, or running into him anywhere.
