He loves you, of course he loves you. You’re beautiful, he’d tell you that until his throat bleeds.

In a world where he’s so disgusted by so many ugly people, you’re this shining beacon, this perfect example of the small fraction of the world he can stand.

He’s overwhelmingly beautiful, can’t you see? Why can’t you let him buy all your favourite things? Why can’t you tell him how perfect he is like he does to you?