Why do I not give up on you, you wonder sometimes.
Looking in the mirror, she appreciates her beauty. “Is it my great beauty that he is after?” she thinks. Her long locks, flowing down her back, she strokes. “It is surely my beautiful hair, that entrance him!”, she says out loud.
And then, later, at work, she notices someone being distracted by her grace, her artful postures of the hand, her smile. The brilliance in her eyes, distracts another later. She feels she owns the world. All the eyes in the room are on her, for that one instant.
Later still, at work, someone asks her to do something. Is it a report? A graph? A query to run on the database? She agrees readily, with a smile. She has won over the person. “Surely, “He” can’t resist me now – I’m getting so much better at this!”
“No-one, in fact, can resist me any longer”, a small voice tells her, in her head.
But what does He think?
Oh, no, I don’t love you at all, you foolish little girl. But, somehow, I consider you a part me now. Like an arm or a leg.
Therefore the only thing that ties me to you now, is my own sense of self-preservation.
Since I do not want to be destroyed – just like I’d not like to lose a limb – so too, do I not want to lose you.