How can I relate to these feelings when I never experienced what they are telling?

Hearing about sob love stories reminds me of my monsters, the ones I escaped from. Only to find more around the corner.

Short memory.

Selective memory.

Shocking shamelessness.

Torture.

Psychological bullying.

Gaslight.

I can’t relate, yet I am affected by it. This is fucking embarrasing.

I’m still at the bottom of the trap hole, well inside the woods, in pitch-black darkness, guessing.

Wasting my life away.

You can never keep everyone happy. Often, it seems that I can’t keep anyone happy. Fuck. FUCK.

Everyone makes their own choices. Perhaps I should too choose to NOT choose.

Come for me Mr Durden. I’m going to mess the fuck out of you.