A little bit.

little warning: this isn't meant to be read in a suggestive way, but it may strongly come across as such. Proceed with caution if that bothers you.

+small note i wrote this at 12 am it's not proofread or edited and i don't really wanna I'll just leave it like this

Sometimes, just a little bit, I want to be loved.

I want to be kissed and praised and adored.

I dream all night of being pampered, of being tended to, of being given all sorts of love.

No stressors. No problems.

All I have to do is sit there, like the good boy I am, just sit and follow, like a good dog.

A nice little thing who doesn't have to think. Who doesn't have to worry.

I don't mind the price.

All I have to do is sell away my dignity and soul, and again, I am loved.

My skin, flesh and bones. My very thoughts and morals.

None of them matter. Take it, see if I care. 

I've already dedicated myself to this role.

I sit so still as I am given my collar, wearing it proudly as if it's a precious crown.

Reclaiming my title, not as a king or anyone of importance, but as a dog.

So obediently, so sweetly, I bark. A perfect little dog.

My role as a pet. I cherish it.

In this role, I don't have to take care of anything anymore, instead only being taken care of.

All I have to do is give up, and let myself be given affection.

I sit so properly and I smile so adorably.

I am a good dog.

Again and again, I have the same dreams, which all eventually turn to nightmares.

Sweet, sweet dreams that turn into mind-shattering nightmares.

It's the same thing every day. I don't mind it, though. As long as I'm loved.

Over and over, I go through them as easily as if casually sifting through a file of papers.

These are the same papers. The same script.

Not like I have anything else to read, anyway.

Nor do I want to.

The familiarity gives me comfort.

And so, I sit through it.

And in the morning it's all ripped away from me. 

And again, I feel alone. Empty. 

I look into the mirror and see that I am in fact, not a cute little thing.

I'm a human. With work and chores. 

And so, I go about my day.

Should I be relieved that the nightmare ended or happy that I managed to actually sleep?

I don't know.

All I know is I'm not loveable and never was.

It was all a silly dream.

It's all real now, and I'm real now, and I have to get back to work.

And again, begins my day of lying.

Of lying to everyone and everything.

That I'm good. I'm normal. I'm happy. It's positive.

I lie, over and over.

I'm not mad. I don't hate you. I like doing this. It's not your fault.

Again and again I lie. I lie more than I should.

It's tiring, living a lie, not being able to be the person who I am.

Not being able to say what I want to, or speak up for myself.

When I'm the one giving myself restrictions, it's no fun at all.

It's tiring.

I want to go home and sleep.

I drag my feet, pretending to want to walk.

I force myself to grin, like a clown, a fool.

I just want to suffocate myself.

If I do, please let it be in your warmth.

Your warmth that feels more cold than heat. 

Because you're not real, after all.

It's okay to pretend. Just a little bit.

It's okay.

It's okay...

right?

...

And when night comes, I dream it all away again.

I return to my fantasies of doing and being nothing in particular.

Of being a cute little puppy. A brainless pet. I don't have to do anything but sit and follow. 

Doing nothing but be cute, and for once, actually happy.

I return to being loved, being cared for and adored.

My smile is precious and my tail wags behind me as I blindly follow orders.

Then I wake up and realize it's not real.

Just a gross fantasy. 

I'm just a gross thing who wishes to be cute.

And I can never be cute.

Not in the way I want to be.

And so, the cycle continues.

I know it's unachievable.

I know it's not real.

I know it's probably bad for me, feeding into these delusions of being 'loved' but...

Just a little bit.

It couldn't hurt to dream, right?

...

Just a little bit.

I want to feel loved.