Pain is something I've grown accustomed to. It's as natural to me as drinking a glass of water. Whether I'm witnessing someone's pain, causing it, or feeling it, it's something I welcome. I get a high off of it. Perhaps it's the adrenaline. Or maybe it's the distraction it causes. But something about pain attracts me, I've romanticized the feeling. Maybe that's why I was attracted to him. I knew he caused others pain, I knew he felt it, and I knew he enjoyed seeing people in pain. I'd like to think I'm attracted to the color of his soul, the dark hues emanating from within him compelled the same darkness out of me, and our souls danced in the dark of the night, where they could not be observed by the rest of the world. But my problem is that I didn't realize how dark his soul was, until it had already tainted mine. But I was ok with that. I welcomed the darkness wholeheartedly. Because without the darkness, there would be no light. I thought I could be the light, I thought my soul was the light, and I thought I could fix him. I thought that I could end this turmoil inside of him, but really I wanted him to fix me. I wanted someone to love me and end my sadness so desperately, that I forgot to care about myself in the process. I poured my soul into everything I did, I poured and poured, I gave him everything I had, and eventually I grew empty. He possessed everything. My heart, my soul, and my mind apparently, because at this point I couldn't stop making stupid decisions when it involved him.  He single-handedly stole all of the things I needed to function and I hated that I possessed nothing of his. I was officially empty, there was a void inside of me that I couldn't overcome, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
~me