You’re taking me to the dream place — a place I’ve been so many times before, but not like this. This isn’t right, you’re pushing me in and it’s not the same dream. Swirling, falling, pushing, clawing, biting, wretching, forcing. I’m not ready but I go anyway. I fight it but I go anyway. It doesn’t fit but you put it in anyway.
Pain and more pushing, and eyes so wide. Are you even the same person? You’re different inside. . .
Trickery of the highest order. I’ll make it stop if you sell yourself to me, you say. And then I do, and then you start again.
We can do this the hard way, or we can do this the harder way. I’m just making it harder, you say. Stop fighting, you say.
I can see the whole thing ahead of me. A place I don’t want to go, and I’m not as strong as you, and you make me go there anyway. I can see every step along the path, and you’re dragging me, and my chest is covered in blood, and the chains bruise my wrists.
How can you do this to someone you love? How can you still tell me you love me after all this?
Did you have fun, you ask. I die a little at your heartlessness. Fun? I ask. You’ve forever stolen that word from my vocabulary. Every time I think about tonight I’ll cringe. You’ve taken my life away. And I’m not just being melodramatic.
How can you do this to someone you say you love? Love for a human is different than the bond of possessing an object. But you’ve made me an object. And you’ve broken me.
But there is light in the distance. A great distance to be sure, but not so much time-wise. Love is the law, but not a law like the one you’ve broken. Love is a law like gravity, and that means you can’t break it. Love is there or not-there, and it is There. And There is where I’ll be, starting to pick up the pieces you’ve severed from me.
How can you do something like that to someone you say you love? How can you laugh while you do it?