I don't normally go emo like this, but I think I finally need to vent.

I've been having a lot of trouble over the last couple of weeks. Inside. I've just felt so...trapped. Caught between life, death and oblivion. It's gotten so damn hard to drag myself out of bed, and it gets even harder with each passing morning. That's because, as each day pass me by, it's almost like I can see this torment dancing, whirling, around me. Every time I open my eyes, I see nothing but loss-one loss right after another.

You know, when things started, I was so fucking happy. He felt so damn right for me. Sure, I've had plenty of moments in our relationship that I felt like everything was going to crumble to dust and blow between my fingers. But they always passed us by, they were always so impermanent and fleeting. And when they finally ended, I was happy again.

But now, I'm not sure anymore. The only thing feeling I can sort out coherently, from the tumultuous mass of mortality that drowns me, is that I feel like I've been lied to. Not even by Master, but by the universe. It feels as though I've been carefully herded down this particular road, meticulously led down this one path, and given the thing that brings me the most joy above all others...just so that I may, once again, be stripped of it. All of these leaves me feeling as though I have less now, after having my heart broken so many times over the years, than I did when I was more than happy to be spiteful and live all alone. My heart can help but feel left stark naked and bleed; my soul seems so vulnerable and exposed, and I can feel the burning tear that the claws of the beast of Life have left upon it.

And, truth be told, I find myself reverting to old mannerisms I used to hold. Mannerisms I had struggled so hard to rid myself of. I find myself becoming disgusted by how greatly this one person can hurt me-by doing what I asked of him. When I look in the mirror, an all-too-familiar boiling rage blisters my veins and flesh. But I'm not angry with him. I tried to be. I tried to express the feelings of hurt and vulnerability I had been left with in poetry. I think the shreds of that sheet of paper are still in a school waste-bin. I tried to be angry with him, but I love him too much; I only end up breaking down, yet still unable to shed the tears which flood me. No, I'm angry with myself for letting someone worm his way this deep inside of me.

Perhaps things wouldn't be so bad, if I hadn't wanted to be his so badly. I was such the good little submissive. At least, I tried to be. I gave him everything I could, and did everything I could think of to bring a smile to his face. The only thing I ever wanted was to have my love returned-for him to sweep me off my feet, take me to his abode and keep me forever. Nothing made me happier than serving him and making him happy in every way I could.

Now it feels like I've been used. And no, not by him, but by life. It feels like I've always been used-in my heart, I mean. Sometimes, my purpose is simply to fix that which is broken. Other times, it is to be the conjoining force that brings two people together. But in the end, it doesn't matter why this always happens, only that it does. Without fail, time leaves me behind in the shadows of the past and I find myself alone again. People find better paths to follow, paths that I cannot tread with them. It wouldn't hurt so much if it wasn't constant, and guaranteed. It wouldn't hurt so much if I knew where my own path was headed.

Maybe it's not that they always take paths that I cannot follow. Maybe its that I always follow the roads of the abandoned martyr, where others cannot stay by my side.

All of this has me so confused. So hurt. So...dead. I feel like every bit of who I've bleed to become is slipping away, like a mask that's cracking while I still wear it. It's just been so hard to keep doing things that used to be so easy. My inspiration is gone. I've stopped going to classes altogether. I've lost all ability to care when I get in trouble at school. More and more, my punctuality suffers.

But worse than this? After exploring the depths of who I am at this point in time, I find myself utterly repulsed by the idea of ever caring about any of these things, which have suffered because of this depression, again.

The kicker? All of this is because of me. Because I can't just leave well enough the fuck alone, and have to keep prodding things until I break them. Everything that's happening to me, is because I wouldn't accept "I don't know right now" as an answer.

And...it kills me. I also find it so fucking poetically ironic. That it is my own capacity for love that has destroyed my relationships each and every time. Hell, I'm doing it even now! Even knowing that my relationship with the one man in the world who, to this point, means the most to me is already on unstable ground, I'm still chasing after others.

I told him that I could not deny myself. That I could not ignore my heart. That I was not someone who only loved one person at a time, nor was I someone who would rebuke the way I feel for others. So I suppose I've brought all of this on myself. The woes of living polyamory. The dangers of dating a monogamous soul, no matter how much you may love them.

What makes all of this the more damning? Even if he does leave me, as he's vaguely threatened to... I'm still going to be so loyal to him. I'll still be his Pet, even if only in my heart and mind.