You said you love me, but this isn’t love if it ever was. You act like you own me, like I’m furniture in your house. You use the word love like some kind of incantation, but for me it is just a bald word, without meaning, something you use as a shield, like a bandage for my wounds. You don’t love me. You are my freedom catcher, a feelings controller, an action manipulator and my happiness destroyer, hidden behind the word love.