#never good enough
Can you tell I’m burnt out? No? Good that’s how I want it.
I’m going to die if I keep going, but society doesn’t give breaks, especially not for mental health. So….I’ve just increased my workload… because burning fast and bright is less painful than the slow burn.
Would you still laugh if you saw the pool of blood under the blanket?
Her daily chore list had been growing and growing, in spite of agreeing to take on more hours at work to earn more money for Her. she hoped this would be the end of the daily list for awhile–polishing all of Her and Her roommate’s shoes by hand was exhausting.
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She spent literally years perfecting her body. That’s why it’s so fun to torture and body shame her. She’s written on with a marker, circling every part of her that jiggles. Every single little roll of cellulite. Grab her by the stomach and tell her that she isn’t good enough to even lick your ass, and then tell her that she should try anyway. She’ll be grateful that you’re being so honest and hateful of her, and she’ll lick your ass with gusto, trying (but failing) to be the perfect servant for you, in spite of her inferiority.
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A lot had changed since I had gotten mad at my employee, Liz, and called her a ‘useless fat bitch’
She had one by one wrapped my friends around her little finger, turning each one against me.
She had blown the minds of the partners at my office, smirking like a Cheshire Cat when they had created a role to promote her to….giving her full control of the office, including me.
She had won the adoration of my beautiful, talented niece, who now looked up to her like she was some sort of goddess.
She had won my husband, and now sported my wedding ring on her perfect finger.
And after all that, she had claimed all I had left. My ego, my self esteem, my bitchiness, my power, and my freedom.
She strode confidently out of the water. I took in her figure. Her perfect, curvaceous, Amazon-like figure.
At her command, I patted her dry in front or amused onlookers, being sure to shower her in the compliments she deserved as I completed the task.
A wave of sand hit my face, courtesy of a well placed kick from her perfect foot.
“Clean yourself off bitch, then hurry home. Hubby and I expect dinner on the table at 7”
Yes Queen Liz
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That’s it, you stupid fucking bitch. Put them up on the table so they’re easier to belt.
They’re the reason I keep you even though you fuck up all the time, so they should bear the brunt of when you inevitably fuck up.
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It’s not enough that she earn the money for me–she must demean herself in presenting it, never forgetting her place.
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everytime he texts me, i want to reply right away. but i shouldn’t. he dosent care about me like he cares about her.
he will never love me like he does her.
never will be
