Lavender Lies

I used to love how the lavender oil burned against my skin—not because I was crazy, but because it was the only honest pain in my life. Everything else was wrapped in your lies, disguised as love, seasoned with "I'm doing this because I care." But that little purple bottle? It never lied about what it was. Never called itself medicine while making me sicker. Never promised to stop hurting me tomorrow. I loved it because it was mine. The only destruction I got to control in a life where you controlled everything else. I chose when, I chose where, I chose how much. It felt like freedom, even though we both knew it was just another cage. You loved it too, didn't you? Loved that I'd punish myself so you didn't have to get your hands dirty.