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Rules were meant to protect me.
Rules were supposed to keep my heart intact.
Rules are now the one thing I hate the most...
 
He owns me—Every. Single. Breath. I just don't want to admit it. To him, or myself...
 
You get hurt once, you assume that's the norm. You see others suffer, you assume that's the norm, too.
 
One rough go-around was more than enough for me. After that, I kept it simple, no strings attached. It was just easier that way. Even necessary.
 
Then why can't I breathe without him?
 
Why can't I handle every second we're away from each other?
 
He's intent on possessing me, owning me.