D.B. Woodside Instagram – Part two: That is not love, my new friend. That is a special kind of sickness. Your beguiling imp tries to control you with emotional abuse. With gaslighting. With guilt. If they are uniquely skilled they will cast you with the ailments that they themselves possess. It’s maddening. And yet, when viewed from afar, strangely fascinating. Until it makes you physically ill. Again. And again. And again. That is not love, my new friend. They choose the strangest times to attempt “connection.” Always has a slyly, well timed, negative comment about your friends, your family. It won’t feel negative. It might even be cushioned by remarks such as “I don’t wanna be a shit-talker but..” or “I mean I want you to decide on your own but…” Anyone they might perceive as being more important than them. Note, perceive. My new friend, your beguiling imp doesn’t live in our world. They live in another world. One in which they control everything. Including fucking gravity. Feel me? They make the rules in that world. And their rules will change according to their tempestuous moods and whims. Try as you might, you will never have access to that world. It wasn’t set up that way. And in the end, your beguiling imp will slash, burn and run. They will always slash, burn and run when asked to live in a world based on shared responsibility. If you doubt that, look at their past relationships. No one should despise everyone that they ever dated. My new friend, they are not who they perceive to be. Again, note perceive. They never have been. And so, I have no feelings about them. Positive or negative. My sorrow lies with you. You can not fix that hole in your *own* heart by loving a ghost. Someone that does not exist. That is incapable of reciprocal love. Of a love that seeks to uplift, not one that seeks to destroy. Of a love that seeks to embrace, cuddle. Not one that seeks to stampede, shred. Of a love that seeks to stand and painfully communicate with the possibility of a blissful future. Not one that seeks to escape and overwhelm with the assignment of blame. LOVE. DOES. EXIST.