DIARY OF AN OXYGEN THIEF By Anonymous (The Oxygen Thief Diaries)

All I could think about was that if I could be hurt like this then surely I could also cause it in others.This consoled me.

Romance has killed more people than Cancer. Ok...maybe not killed but dulled more lives. Removed more hope, sold more medication, caused more tears.

When I was nearly sandwiched to death between a car and a motorcyclist I was able to imagine she’d orchestrated the whole event. I suffered a crushed bicycle and a broken wrist. How delighted I was that she should go to such trouble in the name of romantic revenge against me.

She really must love me afterall.

I wanted her to want to hurt me back. This would be the new US:

My hope was that if I registered pain, it would be welcomed as a sign of life.

A sit-com I had to sit through. But it was okay, because I knew I’d be writing her out of the series.

Why would anyone set out to break the heart of someone they loved? Why would anyone intentionally cause that kind of pain?

Why did people kill each other?

Because they enjoyed it. Was it really that simple? To achieve a soul-shattering, it is better if the perpetrator has been through the same experience. Hurt people hurt people more skillfully. An expert heartbreaker knows the effect of each incision. The blade slips in barely noticed, the pain and the apology delivered at the same time.

The more they confided and invested in you, the deeper the shock and the more satisfying the moment at the end.

Half the time I was trying to push them away, but it only had the opposite effect. And the fact that they were attracted to a piece of shit like me made me hate them even more than if they’d laughed in my face and walked away.

Nothing had ever felt so right to me. If I'm honest, even today I miss hurting. I’m not cured of it but I don’t set out to systematically dismantle like I used to. I don't miss the booze half as much. Oh to hurt again.