The Human Addiction | Eminem

The Human Addiction | Eminem

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WpMetadataReadMaduroConcluída qui, jul 27, 20238h 17m
#1 on Eminemfanfic hashtag as of 23/06/30 Tyler Hyun is instantly recognizable and addictive. She's the type of person we imagine doesn't really exist, merely only materializing in some figment of imagination. She isn't easy to understand and she makes it incredibly hard to predict her behaviour. So it's relatively understandable that everyone's hooked on her like she's your newest party drug. Marshall Mathers meets her at his friend's house party and he's falling within seconds of seeing her. It's that type of instant attachment. He needs her to be his, he becomes obsessed. But sometimes you've gotta stop for a moment and ask how obsessive do you become before it's getting concerning? *** "No- here's my frustration. We're always distracting ourselves. With TV, music, news... endlessly, endlessly, until we can't even stomach our own silence, can't fathom creating our own thought, can't handle being alone with ourselves. We always need to be preoccupied." She's letting out an aggravated groan, bringing her hands up in front of her face. I imagine what it's like to have her around all the time. I imagine what it's like waking up to her, having her talking about the darkest things in a way that's stomach-able. I need her.
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She wasn't made for glass slippers. She was made for bruised knees, smeared mascara, and being told she's pretty with his hand around her throat. Kendra Knox was never anyone's princess. She grew up in a trailer with EBT cards, overdue bills, and a mother who treated her like competition. Fairytales weren't bedtime stories. They were lies people with money got to believe. Now she dances at Eden's Gate, wearing dollar store glitter and six-inch Pleasers, collecting rent one lap at a time. No carriage. No ball. Just blood, tears, and survival. Then he shows up. Not a prince. A problem. Marshall Mathers. Famous. Filthy. Untouchable. He doesn't ride a horse. He rolls up in a black Escalade, smells like smoke and sin, and looks at her like she's already his. He doesn't save her. He drags her into his world. A palace with no exits, a crown that cuts, and rooms that lock from the inside. He calls her beautiful while she's crying. Keeps her quiet with cash and attention that feels like violence. And she lets him. Because it's not love. It's not safety. But it's still better than going back to being nobody. This isn't a fairytale. It's a dirty one. And she wears her crown like a bruise.

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