The Memoir Of Ms. Butterfly

He knows me better than I know myself.
He can finish my sentences before I can spend thinking about what I’m going to say.
All he has to do is look at me to know something is wrong, even though I keep telling him nothing is wrong.
It’s terrifying that he knows me even more than the people I have been around all my life.
When I thought no one was paying attention, he was in the shadows making sure taking note of every little thing that was me, or they could be me.
When I thought he was busy with other things and other people, he will be busy paying attention to me, but I was busy trying to destroy what I thought was no good because I was terrified to see all the way through.
Anytime things seemed way too good, of course, I had to fuck it up because I felt like I wasn’t worthy of anything good happening in my life, including him. After all, no one ever made me feel worthy of anything good happening to me or having anything good in my life.
Years Worthiness. Later, I’ve come to terms with the fact that no one could ever make me feel worthy but myself I have to convince myself and tell myself that I’m worthy of the good things out of life, and then I don’t need constant praise from people because that’s the only way I’m going to come to terms with mine Worthiness.
I am angry within myself for letting him go when he is the only one who knows me.

Ms. Butterfly Genesis