The most pathetic part isn't that I humiliate you... it's that you keep coming back for more. Every insult, every reminder of your place just pulls you in deeper. Imagine being so weak that even being put down feels impossible to walk away from. π
You're just another forgettable loser desperately trying to matter. The only time you're even remotely useful is when you're giving me what I want. Other than that? You're nothing but background noise begging for attention you'll never deserve. π
You missed me more than you'd ever admit. The second I disappeared, you started checking, waiting, hoping I'd come back. And now that I'm here again? You're obsessed all over again. Honestly, it's pathetic how much space I take up in your head without even trying. π
Imagine paying for the privilege of being near my feet. That's your level. Not admired, not desired β just another pathetic loser throwing money away for a moment of attention. Honestly, the fact that you're happy to do it is the most embarrassing part. π
Worshiping my body has become your entire personality, hasnβt it? One look and whatever self-respect you had disappears. You sit there completely captivated, hanging onto every curve like a desperate little loser.
You're not special. You're not important. You're just another forgettable loser desperately trying to convince yourself that you matter. The only time you become remotely useful is when you're giving me exactly what I want.
My boobs really do turn you into a pathetic mess. One look and whatever dignity you were pretending to have disappears. Suddenly you're distracted, desperate, and completely fixated on me like that's all your tiny little brain is capable of. π
Imagine working all week just to end up distracted by a girl who costs more than your hobbies, your plans, and your self-control combined.
How unfortunate.
For you, not for me. β
You spend all day pretending to be responsible.
Then you see me and suddenly that little budget of yours becomes a list of excuses.
The truth is, you're not attached to your money.
You're attached to me.
β
You keep calling it "your" money.
That's adorable.
The moment you see me, it stops feeling like yours anyway.
Maybe that's why giving it up comes so naturally.
You know it looks better in my hands. β
You keep chasing my approval like it's something you'll eventually earn.
That's the embarrassing part.
No matter how hard you try, you'll always be exactly what you've always been: another desperate admirer hoping for a little attention from someone far above your league. β
I am not interested in half-measures.
Either admire me properly or don't bother at all.
Your attention, your effort, your loyaltyβif you're going to offer them, offer them completely.
Anything less is beneath my standards. β
Everyone has a weakness.
Yours is embarrassingly obvious.
One look and you're already thinking about how to make me happier, richer, and even more spoiled than I already am.
Good. That's exactly how it should be. β
You keep telling yourself you'll focus on more important things.
And yet here you are.
Again.
Distracted, devoted, and embarrassingly easy to occupy.
What a good little puppy. β
You keep trying to convince yourself you're free.
Yet here you are again.
How many times do you need to learn the same lesson before you stop embarrassing yourself?
Some people spend their lives running in circles.
You just run back to me. Fucking pathetic!β
The embarrassing part isn't how easily I control you.
It's how little effort it takes.
A look, a post, a few words, and suddenly you're doing exactly what I expected.
You keep acting like you're complicated.
You're really not. Just dumb af β
You called it a relapse.
I call it accepting reality.
You can pretend you're done with me as many times as you want, but we both know exactly how this ends.
Right back where you belong. β