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.
