Missing Missive

You do not love me.
That's fine, because I don't love you. I don't think I could. It's because you're unloveable, or because I won't let myself love you - probably both.
Which doesn't quite explain why I'm injured that you don't, or won't, or can't.
I was asked today why I even bothered, if I knew it was pointless. The answer to that is difficult. In a fit of melodrama I replied that everything in my life was meaningless, but I don't think its that. I think I did it because I want to claim someone. It doesn't have to be you - in fact, its quite apparent you were a poor choice. I just needed to claim somebody for my own - property, if you will. I wanted to make you beg, make you desire me, have you at my whim. Perhaps I decieved myself into believing that was as good as having you love me. All of the benefits of love without the regard. All of the manipulation with none of the trust. I'm not sure why I want that. Part of me knows that such a desire is pathetic - almost childish. I cannot love or be loved, so I'll take ownership of someone instead, that'll fix it!
Even knowing that it is childish, I still want it. I want you as property. I won't apologise and I won't stop attempting to own you. If I fail, it's probably for the best, for both of us. If I don't, at least we'll have some fun along the way.
Or I can break this cycle - not by loving, but by removing the need for it.
By the time you recieve this message, I will be beyond reach. I will no longer have a need for regard. I will ignore my stomach if I hunger. I will still my sweating if I am agitated. I will tear off my genitals if I am aroused. By the time this message reaches you, I will be perfect.
I only hope that this reaches you quickly enough for you to stop me.
D.