In Love with My Demon

I came to London to get away. I needed a change, a fresh start, an escape from my demons that I thought I could leave behind in California. It’s hard to believe demons can exist in a place so sunny and warm. But he isn’t from California now, is he?

It’s just coincidence that he seemingly followed me here. But that’s not the case. One time zone away, two hours by plane, and suddenly I am not free here like I thought I’d be. He’s tethered me down to old thoughts and feelings, memories and darkness I can’t escape and secretly long for.

I am too comfortable with my own sadness. I am self-destructive, masochistic, trying to find ways to get hurt by him again, lonely for my own broken heart. I got drunk the other night and missed him in the early morning, and it’s like he knew. It’s like he could sense my heart panging, my lips longing, my mind replaying all of the tender kisses we shared that I thought I was destined to never again receive, of all the soft touches, of quiet moments in the dark that he made me think were gone forever.  He could sense my loneliness, my pain, like only he could. He wanted to rub salt in the wounds that I thought had healed over. And though I’m stinging I have loved every second of it. Because it was him; my beautiful evil demon paying attention to me, wanting me again. He called me, and toyed with me and asked me to visit him. One time zone away, two hours by plane. And I wanted to. I want to.

I want to see him face to face, not through a fuzzy screen with bad connection. I want him to hold me in his arms, I want to once again touch his warm tanned skin, to run my fingers through his now overgrown hair, to smell his scent and taste his tanginess. What I wouldn’t give to be violated, to be used one last time by him. He has already broke me, how much more damage can he really do? Shatter my heart to pieces again after I’ve just finished picking them up?

I want to hope that he’s changed and that he’ll love me and gives me what I want and need. It’s stupid to do so. It’s stupid to want him, it’s stupid to miss him, but I do. I want him no matter the circumstances, no matter the risk. I am stupid, I am weak, I am self-destructive. I should be disgusted by him, appalled. I should loathe every molecule of his being, be revolted at the sight and sound and thought of him. I thought I was. I thought my scars had healed and I was hardened to his charms. I thought I had left him behind, left that time spent together in the California sun. I thought I had traded my sadness for new life and adventure in a new city. How is it that he can so easily get under my skin and break through my walls so easily? Am I really so weak that one conversation, one glimpse of his face dissolved them, vanishing them into thin air?

I hate myself, my addiction to heartbreak, to him, to sadness. I hate his hold on me. My first real love, my loveliest demon. I guess he’ll haunt me forever.

 

– Jade Alexandra

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