From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you'd be mine. It's a bold statement, I know, but the truth nonetheless. You were everything I despised, the image of perfection, and I made it my personal goal to break you.
God you were naive. Maybe it was because you'd lived such a sheltered life, or maybe because you were only a kid then (just a month over 16 if I can remember right), but everything I said you took to heart. With every glance your way, I saw your hopeful smile. With every false endearment, I had you striving to please me in order to hear it again. And with every angry outburst I had because of you, I had you crawling back to me with tear-stained cheeks, begging me to forgive you.
I toyed relentlessly with your emotions. In the beginning, it was all completely fake. I led you on, let you believe I cared deeply for you, all for the sake of having utter control. I teased you, I confused you, I fucked with your head. My telling you one thing and meaning something entirely different came to be a habit of mine that you'd never quite grasp. Yet no matter what I did, you'd never open your eyes and see the truth.
All of your friends saw straight through me. They came to me with questions of my intentions. They might have even tried to warn you about me. But I was way too good to be foiled so easily. It didn't take long before you'd pretty much abandoned your own friends. I filled your head with thoughts of their "deceitful ways", about how they didn't like me, how they were jealous of what we had, and were trying to find a way to tear us apart. I was conniving and manipulative, I say so which a touch of pride. There was no question, you'd believe anything I said.
You were doomed from the beginning, that is the truth. But the damage I actually caused was far from premeditated. I pursued you with the intentions of stealing away your innocence and tainting the perfect image you reflected, both of which I did flawlessly. However, I never meant to destroy you completely. So what happened? What brought me to hit you with such emotional force that it jarred your senses and cause your entire being to shatter like a mirror, scattering pieces at random and leaving you completely irreparable?
I fell in love with you.
Long before you came along, I'd already set rules and boundaries for myself. From the first one like you I chose to break, I'd already established that it was unacceptable to get too close. Not just for the air of mystery that kept them so intrigued with me, but to keep them from discovering and possibly worming their way inside of my mind. I never wanted them to know my thoughts, because I fell so easily for a mind reader, in a sense. I knew that if I found someone who understood me and accepted me for all my complexities, I'd latch on and never be able to let go. And I knew the consequences of such a fall, I needed no mistakes to learn from. No past experience was required for me to know what my love could do. Th whirlwind of insanity it caused in my mind was enough. The phrase "Love makes you do crazy things" is a vast understatement in describing the way strong emotions such as fear, love and hate make me so mentally unstable. Love, to me, described mind-numbing psychosis, that of which I'd rather not submit to. So I kept to myself to avoid falling into the clutches of the feeling.
My mark on the souls of the poor victims of my sick game was only suppose to be a small crack in their heart, similar to one you'd get in a priceless vase that's been slightly mishandled. Though it can be fixed, the scar will always be there as a reminder of previous mistreatment. A thin knife to said heart should have been the feeling resulting from the end of our relationship, the feeling of betrayal. I intended to leave my mark in the form of a slow healing yet deep cut that would have left a scar, and a memory of all that you'd had, and all that I took from you. Even though the wound would have been small, the cut would take time and patience to fully recover from. That is what I typically do to the hearts and souls of the ones I choose. And though it's painful, in a twisted way I guess you're special. You brought out in me the ability to inflict the most wrench pain of my worst attack.
But let's not candycoat it with faux positives. In a more realistic view, you were my greatest failure. I was like a serial rapist, in an emotion sense, raping those I chose of whatever purity they possessed. And after all the clean getaways, I started to get too brave and careless. Breaking hearts seemed to come so easily that I obviously got carried away in my selfish indulgence. I tempted the boundary too much, let you in a bit too far. I was way too close to you. And like a messy crime scene, I left fingerprints in the form of deep secrets that were unique only to me. The psychiatrist and doctors at the mental hospital were like medical technicians and crime scene investigators, pulling microscopic fibers of my being from your mind and slowly piecing together the events of that fateful night. Suddenly I was a murderer, because you were as good as dead to this world. But there's no way I can be convicted of driving someone to insanity, so I walk free, with only my conscience to pose as a jail cell and keep me locked up within myself.
You loved me completely. You even gave up your entire life for me. Yet somewhere along the line, we both made the fatal mistake of letting me fall in love with you in return. And as your heart and soul shattered like the fragile glass they so seemed like, I watched a million tiny glistening pieces fall in, mixing with the crystalline tears you shed one final time. For me and only me, you fall.
My love is the gun, my kisses the bullets. Stay by my side and I'll blow you away...
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Submission Name: Kisses Like Bullets in a Gun Called Love
