How could love be so selfishly divine? How could we be so unlikely satiated with strangling the one we love? Or do I just speak for myself?

I have gone to the point of being the sole cause of misery for the one I love and I abhor myself for this! Never in my entire twenty three years of existence have I ever recalled ever wanting a man so much for myself I would give up the world for him! Such madness and absurdity! The thought never crossed my mind till now. I am the image of that psychotic woman bizarrely love struck and obsessed with my man.

I look at myself in the mirror and see a repulsive sight, a face worn out and drawn to the limits. In a matter of months, the life and vibrancy had gone out of me, escaped like prisoners fleeing from a dungeon. I have usurped my own energy and consumed it to its limits. I know this for a fact and I grow tired of knowing it and living with it each day.

Now, the pain is horrendous. It torments not just myself but also the man I chose to be with for eternity. Now, I am torn between gratifying my own desires by clinging on to him and his happiness by setting him free. Will letting him go make him happy? Will it?  Shall I set him free?