There is something undeniably wrong with me.

I can feel it.

This darkness that invades my veins and roams through every cell and fiber of my being.

I wonder if others can see it in me too.

I wonder if my therapist, as he analyzes me and tries to decipher just how fucked up I am, can see the fact that I've always been this way; That I've had this dark seed spreading its malicious tendrils through my psyche and poisons my thoughts with fantasies that would make the average person uneasy.

Something about the loss of control, the loss of decency - it’s intoxicating.

So I use a pretend innocence to awaken the darker, more sadistics aspects of a man.

Can you see the real me?

Read between the lines, I’m being generous here - leaving all these digital breadcrumbs for you to follow.

For you to find me.

You see, society tells us to be a certain way, to not enjoy certain things, to not take - but if you give a man free rein and allow him to be his most primal self? That love and care for you will fall to the wayside as he shoves your face against the ground and takes you. Grunting. Using. He knows it's wrong, but it's that knowledge that makes it even sweeter. Taking something you cherish...and breaking it. Seeking to destroy what I hold precious, solely out of obsession and posessiveness.

And when all is said and done, and he returns to his senses - he’ll look down and that horror and disgust he’ll feel for how thoroughly he used me and broke me.. will vanish when I smile up at him , giving him that radiant expression lighting up a face covered in tears and ruined makeup.

It is then, that both of us will realize just how fucked up we are...and how we'll always need to push the boundaries a little more.

So I let go.

Let go.

We all have the urge to let go.

Some of us take longer than others to take off the mask, to quench our thirst - but I’m no longer one of them. I’ve taken it too far and I fear I’ve become way too self-indulgent with my playful choice of words. I’m bored of not knowing anyone that can tease me equally through literature and give me a true dissection.

It seems I’ve stepped too far.

I’ve been wanting to pollute everyone.

Teachers. Therapists. The father of a friend. I want someone to face a choice - in the former example, the possibility of losing their license and livelihood, in the latter, their marriage and the respect of their own daughter - and I want them to choose me over anything else.

Like I said, there’s something undeniably wrong with me.

I want the terror and ownership, pain and pleasure, fear and lust.

To be victim of a man's lust that drives him to reduce a living, breathing person with dreams and people that love her and want the best for her...to nothing more than a pathetic, broken, little girl.

That’s right, I offer surrender in exchange for protection.

I want to be victim to the tight marks of a man who’s clawing his way so deep inside me that I no longer belong to myself.

I want to belong.

Can you tell me what that even says about myself?

Creation and destruction go hand in hand, so I call out to the wolves; Wanting to feel the undescribable rush of prey offering itself up to a predator.

To know the dark side of a man while also learning about my dark side.

I want to be dominated. Corrupted by someone, a man who I am afraid of, not because they look scary but because of how their mind works and what they plan on doing to corrupt me or even what they will do once I am corrupted. I’m both afraid yet curious how the forbidden fruit tastes, that once I give in this desire, really meet a man who can fulfill my darkest dreams, I won’t know what to do...

I crave to be violated, to be victimized, to be dragged down to a man’s level and excel there. Or conversely, lifted up to his level and forced to meet that standard.

It is in watching someone that should be protecting me, guiding me, mentoring me yet choosing instead to wrap their hands around my delicate throat and silence my breathing, where the love comes in place.

The love and trust I put in him to put my entire life in his hands. The love he puts in me by building me back up to become better than I was before, to take care of me and guide me

There IS love in taking possession over someone and obsessing over them while simultaneously taking control over their life.

Love is renouncing strength after all.

I hunger for such suffocating affection.

I’ve lost control. And now, I’m losing my mind trying to get away from these shadows..

It’s too late for me to be here…

But the thought of being abused and manipulated by my therapist can’t seem to get out of my head right now..

We’re all entitled to our secrets and this is mine.

I secretly wished that the man who’s in charge of my well being, would cross lines and limits for me out of a deep need to possess me..