i am not exactly sure how i am suppose to be feeling, but a common emotion right now is just unappreciated. i have given up so much for this man; my family, friends - hell, even my morals. however, when i am among the ink and cologne - all of his being - these things all seem trivial in comparision. i wonder the exact instant that my lust grew to love. i would, of course, never admit this to him. when he says love, aimed at an object or other superficial things, i can feel the envious burn in the pit of my stomach, knowing it's not me he feels this way about.