Control

I thought he’d be the happy ending I was searching for. I thought he’d be the light at the end of the tunnel. I really hoped he’d be the smile I’d have in my day.

But I knew this needed to come from me and I still convinced myself of the delusions. I didn’t expect that he was in on the convincing too. He took my actions, studied and analysed them. It became part of our daily routine to examine the words, facial reactions and behaviours that I exhibited to ensure he knew his next move. I became a science experiment. He took my words and weaved a web around me, using the vulnerabilities against me to eventually control me. An ornament that would sit and wait for his attention. I held that belief too for awhile. I couldn’t do something without him. I couldn’t eat without him. I wasn’t able to plan my weekend without him. I couldn’t be me, without him. I needed him in my day, and life. He’s smile became the energy in my day, his laugh became my bread and butter. His touch was the hydration my body thirsted for.

I needed him.

Till I didn’t.

I pulled myself away from him. I slowly detached from the co-dependency of our relationship. I tip toed away, afraid of what I was leaving behind. He slowly began lifting the mask of deception though, and allowed me a glance at the truth he was hiding. He knew what he was doing. He wasn’t ignorant to the control he was placing over me, like I had naively convinced myself. He knew what he was doing. He knew what he was doing. HE KNEW WHAT HE WAS DOING. He actively set out to control and conjure a life that he desired whilst ignoring my needs, wants and eventually identity.

And I let him do it.

I let another fucking person do this shit again. Control. Controlling me.

I had sat there complicit in his determined efforts.

I got out before the process cemented a new identity.

I took my control back.