He feeds on love. He can't tell imaginary love from real one. It's all the same to him.
Two days ago he stopped being fed. Now the bastard is torturing me, he wants his dose. He just won't let it go, he's addicted, he's making me sick, taking my appetite, taking my smile, my peace. He's triggering my mind, making me go hunt for it. I fail. He won't let go, bastard..
Somday, out of hunger, he will die. I'm affraid that part of me will die with him as well.
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