October 1, 2014
It seems I have completely changed.
It seems that way.
I feel more reserved lately, more apt to being private, finding reasons to believe patience is the virtue I need to learn to live by, and believing in the riddles left behind. That’s right, it’s Damien again.
It was a long cold four weeks of feeling avoided, like I was a black cat in the middle of the night. Damien turned me into one of his superstitions. Whether it was an event at Betty’s house or a run-in at our favorite coffee shop hangout, Damien would ignore my existence. Ever since he came back in my life, I have been so scared to unnerve him, to make him run away from me once again. But with practice and poise, I am subconsciously becoming the chill guy Damien wants.
I keep my feelings to myself, and only share with a select few.
I think that putting feelings out on blast is stupid and immature.
I am patient, and waiting for a man to love me when the time is right.
I am chill, calm, cool and collected. I have become THAT guy.
And I don’t fucking like it.
How has this happened? I have never ever dreamed of changing who I am for a man, but I suppose when someone consumes you this much, you do it without even realizing it. It’s like your soul is sold to this person and they get to do what they wish and control you, and make you the “YOU” they want you to be. It’s because they know you love them and will do anything for them. He’s literally pulling the fucking strings and it’s not fair. He has me the way he wants and I’m powerless. I am completely powerless to Damien’s control over me.
Which is why I might have to break him. I can’t be this guy. I can’t hold out for a man just to make him love me. I can’t radically change just so he can feel like he can fall for me. Patience, patience, patience he says to me.
You know he even said I’m “growing up.” Can you fucking believe that? He had the nerve to say I’m “growing up” as if I’ve been some 22-year-old child who throws tantrums and writes blog posts. He said he’s proud of me. It’s like he’s proud of this sick puppy he has trained to do what he wants.
If he comes for me, I’ll step aside as he runs to push me off the edge and I’ll let him fall instead.
I am no puppy.
I am not Damien’s pet.
As I carry out my plan, you are the only person I can trust my dear diary.