Crush me.

Her: I don't sit there and map out what's gonna happen
Her: Stop taking things so seriously
Her: We're talking now and that's nice
She is typing...

 I want you to hurt me.

I don't want to say I get off, off of it, but I can't say I hate it either, can I? Evidently. Judging by the past and everything, right?

I want you to be the worst you could possibly be. Hurt me like I've never been hurt before. Say shit that I haven't heard some other woman already say to me. You'll have to take a while and think about it for a bit, I suppose, you might not even come off as original much, at this point in life. But give it a shot, would you?

I'd love it if you could manage to squeeze a few tears out of these eyes. Make me feel alive again.

Grab my heart and squeeze it at the center of your palm. Feel the pulse and the throbs, squeeze until it gets fainter. Or until it starts beating faster. I could not predict much anymore.

Grab me by my gut, and twist it. Make me weep my soul into your lap. Into your shoulders, into your chest.

Be the worst you can be. The worst person in the world. Destroy my identity, and crush my self esteem. Tread on my dreams, and walk all over my hopes.

Bring me back that unforgettable feeling of sorrow, right there in the chest. As heavy as a burden, filling up my lungs, and making my chest feel much heavier. Make me feel alive. A rush like no other.

Walk away from me and leave me behind. Pay me no attention, what so ever. Make it a lack of any attention. No matter how much I cry out for you to stop, or beg you to stay, or even make the pathetic and foolish request of asking you to come back.

Make my lips tremble, and my knees wobble. Make me regret being alive.

Watch me decay, and die away. Be the reason for it.

Cause me to self destruct.

And I'll love you. More than anything else in the world.

Just make me feel miserable again. I hate not feeling anything at all anymore.