I craved him so bad I felt like I could almost taste him the more I longed for him. I was never certain whether he was good or bad for me or whether he was going to completely destroy me in the end or build me up to be the courageous woman I often find myself dreaming of. I was never such a needy girl. I mean I was needy when my parents weren’t home and I was stuck at home with my 1700 cousins, but I was never needy in the sense of routinely going day to day and not being able to imagine a second without him, so not doing so. We knew we mutually felt like we were keeping each other in a physical and mental prison but we were so addicted to each others company and touch.

 I got used to his love. The way the armor of his love for me would caress my dark soul and secure the weight off my shoulders into his ocean of familiar comfort, I didn’t want to live any other way.  

At 13 I thought I wasn’t going to make it through each night because my boyfriend at the time entertained other girls whilst leaving me starving for his attention to make me feel worthy of living, I am now 17 and the addiction is worse.

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