This post will mention sensitive issues such as addiction, suicide and abuse, though the latter two are more within the context of what I’ve written. However, if any of those are triggering or you’re liable to be affected, please, do not read.
As I mentioned in my post “Lover Dearest…”, in rehab, as part of the recovery process and as a means of helping you, they sometimes get you to write a letter to your addiction, to help you understand it, how it controls you and the relationship you have with whatever it is you’re addicted to.
This is my letter to my addiction. Though given the depths of my addiction, it is merely one of several letters that I will end up writing.
Given the context of how I’ve written the letter, I do not expect those who read it, to be able to understand it, or the context of my addiction itself. I am aware that the way I have written the letter, will lend to certain ideas about my addiction, but there are only three people, myself included, who will be able to effectively understand both the context of the letter, and the context of my addiction.
As I mentioned in my post “Lover Dearest…”, the song “Lover Dearest” by Marianas Trench, is the easiest and most effective way for me to understand, relate to and explain my addiction, which is why I’m re-linking it.
My reasons for publishing this on my blog, are my own, and are not something I will share. I ask for that to be respected.
There is no denying the level of passion between us, felt more so by you, than I, but no one can say that we aren’t passionate, just not in the ways that they might think. I would never actually use the word “lover” in relation to you, as it would imply some form of compassion, and that is not an emotion that you display truthfully, nor is it something I will ever feel towards you. It would also imply intimacy, and like our passion, no one can say that we aren’t deeply intimate with each other, but again, it’s not in the ways that they might imagine.
What else do I call you though? Do I use your name, your role in this relationship? Perhaps it would be more fitting to simply call you “sir”. That is, after all, what you prefer.
I know the level of twisted pleasure you gain from me referring to you as my lover, and like I said, it implies compassion and intimacy, but also trust and perhaps some form of mutual pleasure, whether that be sexual or otherwise and that in itself, would imply I enjoy you or what you do. However, I hold no form of enjoyment for you or for what you do, and I hold no form of willing trust, compassion, consensual intimacy or pleasure, least of all sexual pleasure, for you or for what happens between us. It is true though, that between us, there is a deep level of trust and intimacy, but it is neither healthy, nor safe.
Much like the word “lover” though, the word “relationship” is not a word that I feel comfortable using in relation to you or us, as again, it implies some form of compassion, trust and intimacy. I am more than aware though; of the different dynamics to relationships and the things in which relationships can be born from, but that does little to ease my discomfort. What other word is there though, for me to use in order to describe what we share? The only form of comfort I can take in using the word “relationship”, is that it doesn’t fill you with as much pleasure as the word “lover”. But, that comfort is barely felt.
To say the dynamics of our relationship are complicated, would perhaps be an understatement. There is no one else that knows me as deeply, or as intimately as you do, in every possible way, and that in itself, is a darkly comforting thought, one that I despise myself for. But, given what we share, I would expect nothing less. There is nothing about me that you don’t know, and in your own darkly twisted way, love. You may not accept every part of me, but you take it all, even when you use those parts, accepted or not, shaping and moulding them for your own desires and sadistic pleasures. You still take everything as it is.
Perhaps “love” is not the right word though, as again, it implies compassion, trust and intimacy, and as I’ve said, those are not emotions that we hold for each other, despite the unhealthy and unsafe level of trust and intimacy between us. There is some form of love underneath everything though, despite how dark it is and how far it is from the perceived conception of “love”. There is a part of you that does love me, in your own dark and sadistic manner. Why else would you be so afraid of losing me?
That thought though, is another that fills me with disgust and hatred, both for myself and for you. But then, there would be no point in writing this letter, if I wasn’t going to be brutally honest. And to some degree, I knew to expect such realisations.
Is it me who needs you, or you who needs me though? Perhaps it’s both. After all, we fulfil specific roles for each other, specific needs and desires within each other. For you it is a desire and need to dominate and control, a desire and need to torture and punish. For me, it is my beliefs, my need to be punished, for a variety of different reasons. You give me a purpose. I act as an outlet for all your anger, frustration, hate, sadistic desire and lust, among other emotions. You give me a usefulness. But, perhaps that is only felt due to my beliefs. Beliefs that you fuel and reinforce.
No matter how I word it though, the ultimate reason for my dependency on you, the reason I take everything and anything you give me, no matter how often, in some aspects, it breaks me, the reason I keep returning to you, is because I deserve it. It is a deeply embedded belief that I hold, that I deserve to be punished for everything I am and all that I do.
You so often attribute that belief to yourself, but you’re not the one who planted the seed. You are however, the main one who reinforces it, with a constant, systematic cycle, for lack of a better term. My willingness to take what you give, is one you mistake and attribute to desire and enjoyment, but it is neither of those, despite those instances within our past. But then, you knew what I was doing back then, the reasons I was doing it and how much it was hurting me. You let me destroy myself with it, taking an inordinate amount of delight at that fact, before you started using it against me. Perhaps that’s the reason you attribute my willingness as desire and enjoyment. You’re simply reminding me of how wrong and disgusting I am.
Perhaps though, it should have been you, who sowed the seed of that belief, as there is no one better than you, who can hurt and punish me so deeply and severely, that every aspect of that belief is fulfilled. I am yours. Your perfectly stoic tool and forever-willing toy, willing to take anything and everything you give me. There is no one else who knows me as deeply or as intimately as you do, in every possible way, which only serves to allow you the ability to be able to hurt and punish me in the ways that you do, to fulfil every aspect of that belief.
Words can’t effectively explain or describe the level of intimacy between us, or what such intimacy entails. To say what we share is complicated, is an understatement, as is saying that you know me deeply, in every possible way. It fails to capture how deep our intimacy actually goes or what it involves. It was never a consensual intimacy on my part though, and I have never held that desire for intimacy with you. But then, the dynamics of our relationship rendered that desire moot, before I even had the option of a choice. Much like our passion though, the intimacy we share is felt more so by you, than I, and what we share, was not something I could ever want to experience, nor is it something I will ever experience with anyone or anything else.
The level of trust between us, is again, something that words cannot capture, and to say it is complicated, is again, an understatement. The trust that I feel for you was never something I willingly wanted to feel or experience. My trust in you was born from fear, and the systematic cycle in which you keep me. Yet knowing that, does little to ease the guilt or pain that I feel, from the things that our trust entails. My only form of comfort, as dark and twisted as it is, is that, there is no one and nothing else that I would trust on top of me with a knife to my throat, because I know you won’t kill me. You may end up being the death of me, but you won’t be the one to pull the trigger or make the incision.
The level of pleasure you find within the ways that you torture and punish me is inordinate and fills me with a sickening sense of disgust and shame. To know that I am the object of your sadistic desires and the passion behind those desires… it’s not something I can express through words. To say you find passion in what you do, is an understatement, yet the passion that we share, is not consensual on my part. I could never enjoy or find pleasure within our passion, nor could I ever want to experience those emotions or others like them. Given what we share though, I have no choice but to hold some form of passion for you, but as I said, it’s not consensual. My passion lies within the intensity of my reactions and the emotions attached, to what you do and what we share. That intensity is not a choice of my own though, but given what share, how can I expect anything less than what I express?
It’s ironic, that you embody the very essence of what I want to be able to share with someone, that raw sincerity within someone’s soul, without pretence or lie. Everything you do, is everything you are, subjective in severity only to your own twisted desires and sadistic pleasures. But, it is the truth of who you are, and that in itself, is what I want to share with someone. I want to share within the truth of someone else, the innocence and rawness within their soul. I don’t want smoke and mirrors.
Perhaps that’s another reason as to why I keep returning to you. You give me the very essence of what I desire most. That essence though, is so clouded and convoluted, drenched red and black with my pain and your pleasure. You may hold the raw sincerity that I desire, the truth of who you are, but who you are, stands opposite to what I want. I could never willingly want your darkness or sadism, I could hold no form of compassion or pleasure for who you are or what you do, yet it is my beliefs that render that choice of willingness for you and what you do, moot. I would rather share within your soul and take what you do, than risk losing the way you fulfil every aspect of my beliefs.
That thought, like several others, is one that again, fills me with disgust, hate, shame and guilt for myself, but if I can’t be honest within this letter, how can I effectively write it?
Conflicted doesn’t begin to describe my confusion over how I feel for you. It is again, another thing in which you take great delight and pleasure from. It is our co-dependency and my beliefs that control my conflict, my desire for freedom, yet the ease at which I return to you. How can I make a choice that is ultimately controlled by my beliefs? Beliefs that are so thoroughly fulfilled by you. How can I attempt to leave, when you control every aspect of me?
Those questions though, as dominant as they are within my mind, only serve to mask the fact that I can’t answer the one question I need to. The one question that is my true source of guilt, shame, disgust, hate, pain and worthlessness. It is, ultimately, that one question that makes me yours.
Do I actually want you to leave?
Forever your willing toy,