The hold he has on me. The absolute control on my mind. It's like he's holding a knife to my back and I thank him. I love the grip he has, choking my thoughts. Making sure every breath I breathe is him. He is my addiction. His voice, my inner monologue. I hate allowing myself to become attached like a lost puppy. I felt I had no control like a car on ice. Spinning out of control. Why do I enjoy the dizziness? Why do I enjoy the feeling of standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing he is standing directly behind me? Knowing he could push me off at any second. Treading in the middle of the dark ocean. He circles me, his jaws could drag me down. Drowning me into numbness. Why do I enjoy the thrill of spiritual death? Why do I enjoy the torment of the feeling of bees buzzing in my head, the millions of nauseous butterflies flying in my stomach? The unknown is so repulsive, but It ties me down and drags me along. And I am the one who ties the knots. I don't try to loosen them, because I like the way it burns. He traps me, he must know he is pinning me down. I try to scream but he covers my mouth and tells me to not make a sound. And I willingly and reluctantly obey. The angle and devil on my shoulders are at war.