"what?" he asked with surprise.
"Sorry, I don't date freaks anymore. Even cute ones like
you."
"Have you completely lost it, or am I imagining a long trip
to hell?"
"Last time I checked, I still made my own decisions by
myself. My decision is final."
"Fine. Whatever. Do it, I don't fucking care."
"Fine. Have a nice day".
"Have a fucking nice life!"

And he just walked away, and I stood there, shaking, hoping
he would come back.
He didn't. I saw it coming, of course, it was unbelievable,
yet it was the right thing to do.

I was a wreck. I felt like dying every day since. I almost
cut my wrists once. It was very beautiful actually.
I crouched behind my bed with a kitchen knife, while
listening to the song "feel" by Robbie Williams, and the
moment my tears stopped dropping in full packages, I heard
the bell ring and because I jumped that high, I cut a bit of
my hand.
Of course dear mom and dear dad had no choice and I was
being sent to a far away boarding school, only for mentally
ill poor girls.
I hated it there. I was surrounded by scary sexually
restrained lesbians.
I wanted to kill myself there even more then at home, but I
couldn't because they were watching us, like crazy beasts
they wanted to tear apart what didn't fit to their system.
Obviously it was me, and I kept trying to do wrong things,
but they wouldn't send me home.

Eventually I ran away when my parents finally came to visit.
I asked the stupid guard to escort my parents and buy a
candy outside, she allowed me, the folks drove home, and
didn't notice me sneaking to the back of the car.
We arrived home, they went out, I crawled out, and went to
the unknown planet, that was called - my street.

I went straight to his place, to try and make him want me
back. We had a very strange complicated story between us.

We hanged out with the same people, just at different
times.
I asked my friend to snoop and tell me is it that he wants
me or not. Funny, he did the same thing.
It WAS actually funny. We were together for a couple of
months, and it was very nice. I liked him, he loved me, we
shared the same interests, such as favorite rock bands, our
love to sit on the beach when sunset arrives, and  instead
of walking and searching for company, to hold hands and walk
together to places, even to the cafeteria and back.
I really loved him.
Then we started fighting.
That wasn't very loving of him. He yelled at me all the
time. Tried to convince me that I'm crazy.
Why?
Because of all the people who wanted me, I chose him.
Why the fuck did I choose him?
I shouldn't have chosen him.
I should have gone for the sexy style. but I didn't.

Then it all turned evil. He ignored me. I kept on looking at
him, trying to make him come back. He didn't want me
anymore.
So I cried for weeks. Until I came over by his house one
night, and told him that I beg for a second chance.
I told him I have never had such a great relationship with a
freak. I told him that he doesn't have to go out and seek
that attention, since he gets it fulltime from me. I needed
him.
I was like a vampire and he was my blood.

And he said he would think about it.
He didn't think about it.
He just said it so I would leave him alone.
That was when I started losing my mind. All because of a
man, who frankly, wasn't worth it.

So, the night I ran away from the closed institution, I came
over there, right?
I saw him, in the yard, in front of all the neighbors,
kissing another girl.
Well, I don't want to tell you what happened later, because
it's a bit embarrassing.
I over-reacted, and let's end this description here...

I dropped out of school after three months of living with
the homeless, stealing food from restaurants, and using my
connections for blankets and stuff. then I started working
as a secretary, and rented a flat full of bugs down town.
It was nice, that feeling of pure independence. I've lost
every contact with my parents, who didn't seem to care a
lot.
They went on with their lives, I've had a huge success with
my life, and I wasn't a freak anymore.

I finished my first degree in sociology and philosophy, and
a really nice guy who studied with me established a firm and
asked me to assist him on the hard way of raising money. I
agreed. Just because he thought I was normal.

I finally started living my life the way I wanted to. Then
the guy who turned me down came along.
All the obnoxiousness in the world was inside my throat that
very moment. All the death wishes from high school came
haunting me. I stood there, sweating like a pig, looking at
the man who destructed me, and the man beside him who
brought me back to life.
I felt I was being torn to small red bloody peaces.
I had no idea what I could've done. I was hopeless,
restless, I wanted to kill him.
I wanted to kill him because he made my life a living hell,
and when finally I managed to get out of there, he came back
to kill me once again?
I couldn't take it.
I fainted.
I wished that by the time I woke up, he would be gone. Far
away from me.
To a different country, to the graveyard outside our
offices.
But I woke up, and he was still there, looking at me with
his tired eyes, with his bastard mouth, devil lips. He was
beautiful.

But I couldn't do it. I couldn't do the same mistake again.
I couldn't dig myself a hole and then jump there, just
because he wanted me to do so. I wasn't ready to throw away
my life, again, just because I loved him once. It was, after
all, a teenage love. Nothing serious.

But he knew me. He knew that there wasn't one person in my
life I was with, without loving.
I've loved every lover since I was a young attractive
bitch.
I wanted my every lover to try and please me. But no one
could do it. So I just waited.
I swear, I never thought he would be the first. I'd never
thought that the weirdo with the patches on the pants would
kiss me like no other, would touch me and make me shiver
like a cat on heroin.
He touched my hand and my body started shaking. I yelled at
him, that day at the office. I told him about all the misery
and craving, for him. I cried and I beat him, to make him,
once and for all, leave my life, leave me alone for good.
He said that he had acted like an asshole.
I agreed, but wouldn't accept him back.
He fell down on his knees and cried.
I told him that the scene he was making, was a famous one.
He didn't remember that I made that same scene when I came
begging he would take me back.

I wasn't ready for this. I didn't want him. I wanted to
forget all about my life back there, in the dark ages. He
wanted to take me to hell again. It was a good enough reason
back then.
When my boss-friend left and went home, to his child, my
dear old greatest friend of all, got a shot in the head.
He always was afraid of me.
I wouldn't let him destroy me. I would've died before
destroying myself.
I shot myself as well.
I missed.
Then I tried again.

Finally, it was over.