Bored. Chances are this won't make much sense.
It was a dark night, and I honestly thought that it was destiny that we meet. He was a tall handsome blonde man, and I was a self conscious girl reaching the young age of twenty. We met, and we fell in love instantly.
However, as I got to know him, I started feeling more things about him. He would have weird habits, like taping things excessively with duct tape. He would have a habit of buying Barbie dolls, and decapitating them, and then filling their heads with the blood of the cow corpses.
He was a butcher, a butcher that would come back to our house with a dirty bloody apron, and a large shiny knife. We got married, but never any children.
I loved him so, however… and I think he loved me…
I'm breaking down as I just stare at the decapitated head sitting in a pickle jar in our freaking fridge. WHAT THE?! I'm screaming in agony and pain, so scared. "It's okay sweetie!" he tells me, but it's NOT okay! "You're a murderer!" I scream, but he just pats my back. "I'm so sorry…" he whispers into my ear.
And from that day on, I start to love him more and more.
You love someone so much, that you accept them for their flaws…
I'm now sitting in a jail cell, and the guard comes in, sliding the door open. "It's time for the chair," he tells me. I walk out, a wry smile on my face. I wonder how he is doing now. He's at least fifty. I wonder if he's found a new vessel. Maybe it was all just a lie…
But this is what loves does to ya.