Oh wow, You really found me! If You're reading this, it might as well be over for me. How wonderful that i won't know of it myself until it's too late.
Don't run away just yet, ok? Hear me out! Ugh...
Was this a terrible idea? Absolutely! This pathetic excuse of shrinery has been a long time coming. Perhaps it's expected, perhaps You'd known all along. i couldn't think of a better way to dedicate anything to You than online. Of course, knowing You, perhaps a novel chronicling your exploits, hand bound in leather by Yours truly may have also been acceptable.
We're both here now though, in this metaphysical purely digital place, regardless of where You reside bodily. i'm here, in every pixel on Your screen, in every line written. If curiousity eludes You or perhaps You're already horrified by what You're seeing then i urge You not to go further. You won't like what You find. All i ask for is forgiveness and a bit of understanding.
Let's get one thing clear, i know it's not a good thing to have done and trust me i feel guilty. This guilt however is all to undermined by the utter excitement and thrill this risk provides me. The hope that maybe You'll understand, that You might see it the way i do. Not as some lustful and benign fantasy but instead as what it is- pure, unadulterated, frustration and loyalty.
my frustration of course stems from a lack of perception. The way i never feel seen by You, not for what i am in any case. Truly, who am i? If not something to You, does it matter? The answer should be yes, under all other circumstances i would tend to agree. However, i've built somewhat of a psuedosexual psychological figment in my head of what i want from this relationship we have. It's this urge i get to display, in whatever manner possible, my devotion to You. Fully knowing it will never be recieved positively or with any praise at all. Perhaps the best i can hope for is a passing glance or comment. Know that would still be enough, even if i want everything You could give me.
Truthfully, i'm not sure when it started. Certainly in the midst of my adolescent years i had already struggled with these notions of suffering for another, whether asked or not. It's a sort of internal punishment i put myself through, knowing i'll never be what You truly want and that the most i can ask of You is what i have. Doubtless i am a selfish person, i try to be better for You and fail time and time again. i can't remember a moment since i met You when You haven't been in my thoughts. Isn't that horribly pathetic? i crave to hear You call me such a thing.
Now don't think i'm so self involved as to be unaware of how this all looks. It's horribly grotesque, all of it. Now You know i have many faults, countless, as do you. This isn't some idolatrous work meant to sidestep Your shortcomings, however if i am to point them out it would only be with the utmost fondness. It is no understatement to say that i love everything about You. Do You believe it? Perhaps not, but if everything from here onwards means anything then let it at least mean that i care.
You know that i care. It seems to be a reccurring problem, don't You think? The amount of care i have for You. Do You find it off-putting? i wish it made You feel good to know all the ways You are my life. Call me a freak, call me awful, disturbed, as long as You're thinking of me. Dramatic as this all my seem, and i assure you it is quite dramatic, it's no less honest. i would do anything for You.