Change me

You like to think you keep me grounded. You like to say you’re the one stable thing in my life. The air of self importance that surrounds you keeps me there, observing. Saying I agree when it’s required and promising I’ll change for you, when in fact I never intend to.

Your illusions of grandeur, your attempts at discarding the monotony that surrounds you and the mediocrity that’s eating you, fascinate me.

You say you want me to be free of my demons. That you have the power to chase them all away and if I only gave you the chance, if I only let you in, then things would be fine. But do you not know, love, how much i despise „fine”? I’ve grown quite fond of those demons you want to banish. They make me who I am. They make me the person you want to change so that I can fit into your world. I always silently believed that that’s the source of you attraction to me. That I broke the pattern you had established for your universe. And so you wanted to break me, so that things would be normal again. And I agreed to be broken only to see you struggle and become frustrated with the uselessness of your trials.

But then you took up smoking, because you inhaled the tabacco from my cigarettes anyway, so why fight it? And your sleeping patterns became erratic, because you can’t change someone if you’re not awake at the same time. You began to understand my perceptions of life, for how ca you modify something without comprehending it.

But sadly, darling… I stopped wanting you. Because playing with the same toy becomes boring after a while.