I was taught under obsession, and in so, I find obsession myself.
Things are not allowed to end. I must obsess over the past betrayals and quarrels of yesteryear until I retch.
A pity.
I am taught that my efforts have never been enough.
I am a gnarled, lazy thing — One that never has and never will try hard enough. I am lazy, I am lazy, I am lazy, I am lazy. The word is clawed so deeply into my brain that blood pours from the folds and fills my eyes.
A pity.
I am taught that my worth only stretches as far as I am convenient.
With each little-given hint of annoyance in any form, I fall into despair. I believe again, "surely, this is it. He is leaving. I was never beautiful at all".
A pity.
But that love is unconditional. I don't yet know how I may respond to it. I am a filthy mongrel, sticking my neck out to eat offerings of scraps. You reach your hand to pet my head, and I cower. I quake.
I was a puppy, once.
Not for very long, mind you,
But once.
But with you, I might be a puppy again.
Sometimes, at least.
