You broke my heart, and it’s my fault. I knew what you were when we first got together and I rolled the dice. You were, and still are, the same animal as me.
We go after the meaty marks. Sink our teeth in and have them submit. When they do, that’s when we feast. But a part of me thought that we could live higher, together - the way that people do. I was wrong.
I forgive myself, but I’m having a hard time forgiving you. My animal wants to rip your shiny new life apart, and wipe the smug look off your cuck’s face.
The sick solace my animal has is in knowing that the novelty of the trinkets will fade away, and that you’ll end up ultimately unfulfilled.
Don’t hit me up when the shimmer is gone for you.
My animal wants you to suffer.
And my higher self wishes you nothing but the best.
Enjoy the trinkets and emptiness.