What happened to me was emotional rape. My ability to love so deeply was exploited, taken advantage of, ravaged. Used and then tossed aside when the illusion wasn't worth keeping up, which I now see clearly - though it admittedly was a shockingly good impression of generosity, sensitivity, and genuine care, none of that painstaking effort was for me. It was all for yourself. It was impossible not to fall for the person you were pretending to be, and you took everything I could give... You craved to feel loved and needed, so you manipulated me, masqueraded as Prince Charming, and greedily took my real love in exchange for your beautiful forgery. You are a parasite.
I think I might be all used up.
Knowing how real it felt when all of it was a self-serving charade, I no longer believe I can distinguish between someone offering real love, and a very talented and slightly sociopathic liar. It's not that I believe there are many more human beings capable of these things to such a devastating extent, the chances of the same thing happening to me again are slim, but I cannot bear to make myself vulnerable that way again. I need to protect my bruised, poisoned heart even if the scar tissue that forms makes it far less than it was before.
Still, I want so badly to feel that connection again, with ANYONE. I find myself grabbing for anything, trying to find meaning, trying to find anything... but I know that even if it's offered to me, I won't be able to love sincerely. Not yet. I may want to, but it's not safe. Maybe I can just make myself feel better, make myself feel worthwhile, if I could make someone need me and love me...
THAT is the most disgusting, horrid thing about this entire harrowing experience: it's turned me into a creature like you. It sickens me to think about it. It is manifesting a bit differently. Just to pass the time I've been fucking pretty much anyone who crosses my path (within certain boundaries, though they're much more lax than my usual standards) and it is meaningless and gross and in some ways fantastic, but those ways don't last long... Ha... I'm getting too used to the feeling of regret ripping into my stomach as I catch my breath and push my sweaty hair out of my face. Even though I'm a whore, I haven't yet reached that unforgivable level of exploitation, I haven't gotten anyone to fall in love with me. However, there's more than one person, possibly more than two, who are at the very least smitten and on their way to having significant feelings for this thing. A portrait of a good girl, completely discolored and more than a little frayed. This damaged, ruthless wreck, this... parasite, with an insane, unrelenting, self-serving urge to do WHATEVER it takes to drink in the love I crave, though I can give nothing real in return.
I once had everything to give.
And I gave it to you.
Well I hope you thoroughly enjoyed raping my heart, because if you didn't, what a fucking waste.
I hope the next girl you toy with will make you realize what a good thing you've given up. I also hope that you never get laid again. But if you do get laid again in the near future, I sincerely hope you notice how much better it was with me. I'd wager my college fund you're NEVER going to get fellatio that can compete with mine, and that is such a satisfying thought. And considering that (let's be honest) I was way out of your league in the first place, the girls you'll be able to get are going to be awkward and weird in bed, not to mention less attractive, and in all likelihood less intelligent.
Sometimes I think I'm a walking contradiction... piss-poor self-esteem, and yet I'm arrogant as anything. Though I do have evidence supporting every claim in the last paragraph.
I wish I could understand what this bitter lesson was worth, or what I can possibly gain from it.