Beautiful Things
I have a very unnatural need for beautiful things. Not the sort of need that is actually desire in disguise, but a true, physical, burning need. I must possess them and take them, make them mine, even if it means breaking them -even if it means breaking me- in the process. I tear things open and rip myself apart to merge my being with their's, as if it could make me beautiful, somehow, and I will not end until the both of us are destroyed or fused, there can be no in between. I must have all or I must be nothing.