I don't suppose love is the right word for you and I.
It's quite a strange thing, watching you from where I sit. You're reading 'The picture of Dorian Grey' as always. It's quite a morbid book for someone as beautiful and pure as you. But then again, there is no telling what lies beneath this façade. Are you alike to Dorian? A wicked creature laying in wait for their prey, with a beautiful front. Are you a Lady Macbeth? The serpent under a beautiful flower.
I want to know. But with that brings endless impossibility. To truly know you means to come out of my own cave which was dug for me, both by my own actions and those around me.
I suppose it starts with my mother. Our relationship was volatile from beginning to end.
Her red hair resembled yours phenomenally. Except hers didn't fall like a waterfall. Unfortunately for her, her unhealthy lifestyle caused her hair to become more strawlike and thin. It almost looked like it would shatter if you attempted to put it in a ponytail.
My father had left before I was even born. Which was fair. I had wanted to leave my mother on a number of occasions. This led her to become a woman of the night. I used to pretend she was a Vampire Queen for that kind of title. Of course, I couldn't deny what she was when I saw her in front of me. When I saw them- her many loving and devoted customers. I suppose that was the thing about my mother. She had learnt the ins and outs of drugs, how they came to be and their effects and attraction to people she became one. It was a skill I quickly developed. I knew it was the best way to make it through life, having people at my every whim not only due to looks but attitude.
But she became addicted to who she was. It almost destroyed her. But I helped her in that.
You see, maybe you identify strongly with Dorian Grey. The desire to appear beautiful for your life. But for me, I became obsessed with Psycho.
Norman Bates knew how to live his life. Except the guilt utterly destroyed him.
I knew better.
People can not be a source of reliability or stability. You rid yourself of those that make you week.
So when I found my mother lying on the floor after taking a bit too much- I helped.
Then she was gone.
But you.
