Categories > Original > Romance > I Can Only

I Can Only

by Lororie 2 reviews

Just thoughts.

Category: Romance - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Published: 2008-07-11 - Updated: 2008-07-11 - 383 words - Complete

I could always feel it.
I knew, because nothing was ever enough.
But I’m getting far ahead of myself.

I was never satisfied unless I had someone. That has been the story of my life. As a child, I clung to my friends and family, depending on them for everything – especially emotionally. I wasn’t happy unless they were happy, but when they were happy…well, my joy knew no bounds.
I was always quick to feel left out, as well. If I wasn’t feeling loved, if I wasn’t the center of someone’s joyful – or at least content – attention, it was as if I didn’t exist. Reading was my solace, because in books I WAS the world, therefore I could be the center of every character’s world. I was never left out, never left alone.

I wanted more.

My codependency eased somewhat as I grew to be a teenager. Instead of following as a puppy, I was moody and morose. I was self-sufficient, however. Distinctly unhappy, but I took care of myself. I relied on my friends too much, but none ever truly got as close to me as I let my childhood friends get.

I wanted more.

I had learned better, you see. Friends, family, lovers, all of them – their love and attention was always temporary, and was never enough. Physically, emotionally, I was always left wanting more, by everyone. Even when I finally lost my virginity, it wasn’t enough.

I wanted more.

I dreamed of the romance found only in novels, where clichés are new and romantic, and mysterious men truly exist. I dreamed of a mysterious man, one who would make me feel everything I’d been missing.

Eventually, it drove me insane. Not entirely – not even mostly. Most days I was perfectly lucid, functional, and reasonably content, as long as I refused to let myself dream. There came days, however, when all I could do was indulge in panic attacks and weeping, unable to name a cause or a cure.

I wanted more.

My books were no longer enough to let me escape. I devoured them too quickly, and was left wanting more. Always wanting more…

And then he came.

*I'm not sure if I should continue this or not. Thoughts?*
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