"A happy little ray of hate, when she isn't a cloud of sunshine."
That is the only way I could describe my Beloved. My beautiful oxymoronical sweet-hearted red-hot poker of rage. The only one I bother to rely on, the only one I care about, and the only one I'm ever afraid to care about.
She's the only person whose opinions I truly, constantly car about. When she yells at me, I actually listen, when anyone else would get tuned out. I pay attention to every little thing she says, so I can better measure up to her standards, so I can be better in her eyes. She's the only one who can help or finder me with her words alone.
She's the only person I've ever felt like I can rely on totally. Ironic, then, that I'm so constantly afraid to rely on her at all, to pressure her, to tell her anything, in fear that she'll grow to hate me.
She's the only person I love, the only person I will always care about, the only one I have ever felt this deeply for, and can consistently care about, no matter what.
She's the only one I could absolutely never show this too. My Beloved, my Melamin, my overcast days and pixi sticks. My Kylie.
(A/N: ....Blarg. I think I was hallucinating when I wrote this. Oh, well. C&C appreciated.)