The pleasing torture of love

Our relationship lasted only four measly days. Those were the most joyfully painful days of my life. I loved him but I hated him. Like the old saying goes, “They were the best of times, and they were the worst of times.” I gave him everything; I gave him my heart, my soul, and my innocence. I lost myself to him. During the weeks that followed our relationship, the tears came like the rain God sent to flood the earth to rid the world of corruption. I could not stop crying; I just wanted to rid myself of him and his power and corruption over me. I was punishing myself because I let him abuse and take advantage of me. I would lie on my bed with a rusty, but sharp razor in hand and push it firmly against my inner left wrist. Not enough pressure to force droplets of blood, but enough to leave red marks on my arm that eventually turned into scars. I carved a heart on the back of my hand to show the world that his love caused me pain. Everyday I am reminded of him because I took my passionate anger, hate, and rage out on myself. I let him control me and use me. If I had the option of going back in time and erasing it all I know I wouldn’t. The whole situation helped me gain myself. I do mean gain myself. I didn’t gain confidence, I gained myself. I finally taught myself perseverance. I became persistent that as long as I’m alive I will let no one else treat me the way he did, and if I do allow it to happen; I’m not going to kick myself or abuse myself because of it. I learned that life goes on and if one person in the whole world could care less about me it doesn’t matter, because I love myself and no one can change that. I learned that love hurts and in all relationships there will be some amount of pain whether it is long and agonizing or short and sweet, it will eventually happen and there is nothing you can do to prevent it.