Every time I think of you, a silly grin appears on my face. My eyes grow distant and far away. And I reach over and rub my hand. The hand that you held, not too long ago. The earth shakes, my stomach gets butterflies, my heart beats faster. I’m so deeply and honestly in love with you.

But when I tell my friends what you’ve said or how much you care for me, they frown. They use words like “Un-healthy,” and “Emotionally abusive.” I laugh when they bring this up. You love me. You tell me all the time, in special ways that make me feel like I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

Before you, there were so many boys. In my mind they fade into a blur. If pressed, I can’t even remember what order they came in. But I have small parts of them left of them left with me. A bracelet from one, a stuffed animal from the other. A rose pressed between the pages of my science text book, and a love letter written on pink paper. When you asked me to throw all it out, I did so gladly. They are my past. You are my now, you are my future, you are my everything. I didn’t protest when you told me that I should stop talking to my friends that are boys. You said it so sweetly, you convinced me it would be an awful thing to keep up contact with them. I have the text saved in my phone.

Baby, you said, You live so far away. Im jealous of all those boys who get to look at you every day. It would kill me to know that they got to hear your voice, or be with you when I can’t. I just want you to love me the way I love you. It would make sense if you stopped talking to them.

So I stopped. I stopped going to parties, I stopped calling my friends back. I stopped talking to the one boy who had ever meant something to me.

Because you are the only thing that matters to me anymore.

And I deserve it when you get mad at me. Like, when I let that other guy kiss me. Your reaction was normal. If you kissed another girl, I would probably want to hurt you, too. But at the moment I was glad you lived so far away, and couldn’t touch me. And when you get mad when I tell you that you can’t tell me what to do. You have a right to tell me what to do with my life. Hell, you ARE my life.

When you stop talking to me, I could feel myself sink lower, and lower. I won’t eat. I don’t want to hang out with my friends. I lay on my bed, and wrap myself into a ball. I cry buckets, rivers, oceans. My whole body is wracked with pain. and I just want to hear you say that you love me, that I’m beautiful and that you want me again.

Without you I’m useless. My friends turn their backs on me. One by one they are leaving me to myself, and to my constant pain. And When you take me back, I am hesitant to try to call my friends. They left me. And you are here for me, now. And that’s all that matters. I put up with your rage, I cry silently when you call me.

So I have locked myself into this room. There’s no escape for me, because I gave you the key. You tell me that I can leave, you dare me to do it. But you know I never will. I’m imprisoned by my heart, and by my fear. I’m an empty shell of person, walking around with fake smiles and constant pain.