Worth I don't even know if I should be posting this. But it's been weighing on my chest for a couple of years. And I'm a writer, if nothing else I will expel my sorrows through words. Once upon a time: there was a boy who thought he was in love. It was only the second time he had been in love so he thought he understood what it felt like. But this was the wrong kind of love. It was dark, and cloying, and greedy. The boys beloved fancied himself very attractive. Gods gift to men and women. And the boy was overjoyed that the gift had chosen him. Someone he thought ugly. A plain boy with brown eyes and a broken heart. Well, as the story goes, the boys beloved asked him "do you love me?" "If course!" Was his answer. "Well if you love me," the beloved said, "you'll sleep with me." "O-okay." The boy said sheepishly. And so they did. The next time the beloved got needy, for that's what he was: needy, he said "if you love me, you'll sleep with me and my friend." And again the boy succumbed to his beloved. And then so on and so forth the story goes. The boy continued to give himself over to his love, and then the friends of his beloved, and then to the friends without his love with them. Until it got to the point the boy felt used, and quite empty. He rarely saw his beloved except when he was asked "how much do you love me?" And then one day the boy saw his once beloved counting money, licking his finger to split the sticky paper. He asked what it was for. And the once beloved replied "it's how much your love is worth." The end.