I have always believed it would take a very special kind of freak to truly love me. I was never able to believe it in the depth of my soul whenever a man claimed to love me. To me, that immediately translated to ''I don't truly know you," because if he did, how could he have loved me? My core was inherently unlovable. IS inherently unlovable. I believe this is my biggest curse; the inherent and stubborn belief that my core is far too alien and foreign for anyone to be able to love. Cut from a totally different material, incompatible with any other soul on this planet, in this world, in this fucking universe where I happened to "land."
And so I've always found myself growing a certain type of hatred for every man that has claimed to love me. They were all so... human, so pure, so perfectly constructed on the inside. I knew as soon as they would get a chance to look closely and see me for the creature I really am, they would run and never look back. They never got a chance, I always ran first. Rejection would have been an unbearable confirmation of what I already knew, and so I've always gone to ridiculously great lengths to avoid it. I am far too weak to look that kind of level of death in the eye.
And so I've been spending my life running, leaving ruins behind me that don't even haunt me because, yet again, I am too weak to care. And way too bitter. For chances are that special kind of freak might not have traveled so far away from home like I did, and right now he might be thousands of light years away from me.
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