“Teddy bears and “I’m sorry” letters
Don’t seem to make things better
Don’t bury me alive…
I fell in love with the devil
And now I’m in trouble”
“Toxic Love Addict”
Fiction. Based on a True Story of Being Addicted to Toxic Love.
by Chelsea Wolfe
This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
When you look back at the past, can you see the repetition in your choices? How you continue to choose toxicity over and over? It’s addictive.
Just because the situation may seem different doesn’t make it any less addictive. You can’t help yourself. Choosing men with issues that you cannot fix, when they do not want to be cured. When they do not see a problem with their ways. This kind of love is all you know.
You can keep pointing out their flaws. And they’ll promise to work on them, but it doesn’t change anything. You know better than anyone that nothing will be fixed overnight but when months go by, you start to wonder. Is it really them? Or is the problem you?
Would you go back to the past? Take your chances in the present? Or would you make room for an unknown future? Would you be dooming yourself to repeat history either way?
Being told they love you doesn’t mean shit when their actions don’t change. So why do you stay? Why do you put yourself in situations you can’t get out of? They’re each their own flavor of drug; a liar, a cheater, a manipulator. Can you even tell which one was which anymore? Or do they all blend together? Perhaps each one was all three and you just can’t tell anymore, because at the end you couldn’t get enough. You’re addicted.
You’re addicted to the pain that comes with love. Love shouldn’t be pain, but you don’t know what love is like without it. You would ruin that kind of love, inflict pain somehow because it’s all you know. It’s what you crave: your addiction never staying satisfied. Each one worse than the last.
Even now. You don’t want to give up. You think you can salvage what’s left of your love. You make excuses, eat up the empty apologies. You can’t help but to forgive, to hope things will change. But they never do, and you can’t help but to hang on in case one day they do. And maybe they will; a rose cannot be beautiful without it thorns.