Odd Ones Out
start.
I can barely remember the day I met West, which is odd because that was the day my entire world was flipped upside down. I didn't know it at the time, but the moment he turned his attentions on me I was doomed. It started out with little things such as mild inconveniences. I thought nothing of it and attributed these misfortunes to a running streak of bad luck. I never even considered the idea that something, much less someone, was behind it.
West is a monster.
His whole being is vile and he has not an ounce of remorse for any of the actions he takes. West holds no concern for anyone's interests but his own. Some may say that he is exceedingly concerned when it comes to my wellbeing, but I was never fooled. He only thinks to care out of his own selfish desire to protect his favorite toy.
I hated him at first, which was unusual because I thought I could never hate anyone. As a person, I could never bring myself to give anyone anything short of a placid smile and a seemingly endless supply of patience. Then when West came along, everything changed. I'd never felt emotions as strong and undeniable as the abhorrence I felt for him. As a woman who was never sure what she felt, it was frightening.
West brings out the side of me that I never wanted to acknowledge was there. The side of me that cries, screams, feels insecure and gets angry. I'd always believed that I was just fine, but now that I look back on it I can see myself for what I was.
Beyond the mask that I'd worn my entire life, I was faceless.
West saw me and he recognized something I didn't even know was there.
He saved me.
I've told him over and over again that he was fucked in the head and he never denied it. But now I realize that we're both fucked up and the relationship we have is fucked enough to work for us.
I was never normal, no matter how good I was at presenting myself as such. No matter how I look at it, I'm an outsider. Despite the fact that I tried to care, despite the fact that I tried to concern myself with typical womanly things, it wasn't me.
But I rely on him, just as he relies on me.
Somewhere over the time we spent together, the time he spent mercilessly torturing me with his presence, I discovered what it was like to be a real person again. For the first time, I freely expressed frustration, anger. I was furious with him a majority of the time. I'd always thought that these emotions were negative and not meant to be shown at all.
West accepts me for who I am, as a whole person, faults and all.
He looks after me out of his own selfishness and I have faith in his messed up head.
I trust him because I'm not the love of his life.
I'm his obsession.
West is a monster.
His whole being is vile and he has not an ounce of remorse for any of the actions he takes. West holds no concern for anyone's interests but his own. Some may say that he is exceedingly concerned when it comes to my wellbeing, but I was never fooled. He only thinks to care out of his own selfish desire to protect his favorite toy.
I hated him at first, which was unusual because I thought I could never hate anyone. As a person, I could never bring myself to give anyone anything short of a placid smile and a seemingly endless supply of patience. Then when West came along, everything changed. I'd never felt emotions as strong and undeniable as the abhorrence I felt for him. As a woman who was never sure what she felt, it was frightening.
West brings out the side of me that I never wanted to acknowledge was there. The side of me that cries, screams, feels insecure and gets angry. I'd always believed that I was just fine, but now that I look back on it I can see myself for what I was.
Beyond the mask that I'd worn my entire life, I was faceless.
West saw me and he recognized something I didn't even know was there.
He saved me.
I've told him over and over again that he was fucked in the head and he never denied it. But now I realize that we're both fucked up and the relationship we have is fucked enough to work for us.
I was never normal, no matter how good I was at presenting myself as such. No matter how I look at it, I'm an outsider. Despite the fact that I tried to care, despite the fact that I tried to concern myself with typical womanly things, it wasn't me.
But I rely on him, just as he relies on me.
Somewhere over the time we spent together, the time he spent mercilessly torturing me with his presence, I discovered what it was like to be a real person again. For the first time, I freely expressed frustration, anger. I was furious with him a majority of the time. I'd always thought that these emotions were negative and not meant to be shown at all.
West accepts me for who I am, as a whole person, faults and all.
He looks after me out of his own selfishness and I have faith in his messed up head.
I trust him because I'm not the love of his life.
I'm his obsession.