My child, let’s continue down and meet the person that you will love for the rest of your life.
But I don’t know if I want to love or be loved, instead, I want to be understood, completely, and never be left for granted. I want to believe that I am more useful than that, than just being someone who deserves something significant. Do you get it?
No, I do not get it. You will be loved and, conversely, you will love back. You will teach how to be better and then you will be taught the same. You will greet your lover every day, and take care of that little seed that you plant with a kiss. Every day you will nurture your soulmate with kisses, compliments, cherished words, and many, many other things, you will be drawn to your lover because you will hate being alone, and it will all blossom into something inescapable.
Inescapable? As in, I will love so deeply, that I will be physically forced to be there?
In a way. You will want to avoid the torment of not being with the person who you have given all of yourself to. You have to believe me. It will feel wonderful to love, but it will feel painful, excruciatingly so, to leave. So much that you won’t want to do it.
Then I will never do it. There is little point and desire from me.
But you have to. And you will. And you shall.
I have no interest in that.
This is not a question nor a request. You will not die without it. I will force you into loving the person you are destined to. Do not make that be the case. You know I can and I will. You will not escape.
I will do as you say, for I do not want to die perpetually. Just let me say this: I will cherish that flower that you speak intensely, I will make it grow so big that it will eclipse every other in the world, I will make a love so great and spectacular that it will pale in comparison to your meager soul and your twisted grin. You need my love to live through? You will get it and you will see me smiling, laughing, and sharing things with someone I do not want nor will I ever. But you will see it anyway, a happiness so blinding that it will corrode that disgusting brain of yours, your feet will stink, your legs will shake, your body will sweat and shiver at the thought of me being so in love that you will forever regret the day you did this to me. And once I am done, the flower will wither in an instant so desperately, and so sudden, that you will have no time when I get another and another and another, all flowers for you to pick up, one by one. You will crawl through the road trying to fix those decayed corpses, pasting and stapling petals, as the happiness in me spirals out of control towards a lover, and another, and another. After all, you are truly disgusting and unnecessary, the world will benefit nothing from your continued rotten existence and I have so little patience for you. I do what you ask because you are stronger and bigger than me. But you will never be greater. You will spend the rest of your nights thinking about me and how much I should be enjoying the love that you never got and never will get. What a twisted sense of self-hate, you have, a strange occurrence, indeed, your birth was, a truly, living piece of garbage, talking, whispering, and wishing in futility.
Come on… hold my hand… hold it… hold it… don’t… don’t… let go…
Whatever you say. You better hope I’m wrong.