Sell Your Soul

My relationship with April was the most unstable relationship I've ever been in. I think for a time I loved the idea of having someone in my life to take care of, really take care of. She was always like a damsel in distress to me, like Daphne from Scooby-Doo. And I think she loved the idea of having someone to take care of her, with a good and stable income, someone she could screw over and then they'd still be there for her. I don't even understand why we were together for so long. We were anything but good for each other.

It had been yet another month and there were days where we were at the point of strangling each other. I had been noticing things about her and would point them out, like the fact that she was all skin and bones now, her face was hallowing out, her eyes held no life. Oh, and the fact that she had at the minimum a dozen puncture marks on her left arm now.

She would lose her mind every time I brought something like that up. She'd blame it on a cold, flu, food poisoning, stress, the first thing that came to her mind. Her terrible excuse would lead to yet another fight, and it wouldn't be a lie when I'd say there were a few times where I actually had to hold her back away from me. Her arms would flail around, her legs would be kicking about and she'd be screaming. I'd always come out with scratch marks, bruises and a migraine.

Still to this day I don't even know if there was ever love there or if it was just pure lust. I'm not sure if I ever loved her, or if I could've ever found a way around all her flaws to love her. She was just always so reckless. She created hell for me and my friends at that stage in my life. I could sleep for days and never feel fully rested because she was always there, fucking something up and causing a ruckus.

I never understood what happened in her life to cause her to end up the way she did. Every time I'd bring up family, she'd change the subject or lash out in a fit of rage. I learned my lesson not to bring it up after the third time, and also to not introduce her to my own family. They all heard the horror stories from my friends and me, so how could I subject them to that knowing what would happen?

In the time we were together, I kicked her to the curb three times and she always came crawling back to me. I -being the idiot I am- would always take her back at the promise that things would be different, that she'd quit the drugs, quit drinking and just smarten the hell up in general. I was so gullible back then. But I guess everyone makes shitty choices, mine just happened to be her.