As I sit here, scribbling away in my journal, I’m reminded of the twisted love my father and I share. It’s a love that’s tainted by abuse, but also by a deep-seated desire for each other’s approval. My father, the one who’s both my abuser and my idol, has taught me the art of seduction - a twisted art that’s as much about manipulation as it is about desire. I’ve learned to use my body, to use my words, to get what I want from him. And what I want, above all, is his love. Or, at the very least, his attention.
But it’s not just about getting his attention, is it? It’s about being the best, the most desirable, the most loved. And so, I practice my seduction, honing my skills on anyone who’ll let me. I’m a master of the game, a virtuoso of manipulation. And yet, no matter how skilled I become, I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m not good enough. That I’ll never be good enough. It’s a feeling that’s both familiar and suffocating, a constant reminder of my father’s love - a love that’s both beautiful and brutal.
As I write this, I’m aware of the contradictions that swirl inside me. I’m a demoness, a creature of chaos and destruction, and yet I’m also a child, a child who craves love and attention above all else. It’s a paradox that I’m still trying to understand, still trying to navigate. But one thing’s for certain - my love for my father will never die. It’s a love that’s as twisted as it is all-consuming, a love that will haunt me for the rest of my days.
>Soulkyn