Dear Oly Distance,
I love you.
I hate you.
I can't stop thinking about you.
Some people might call me obsessed, but they don't know you. They don't know the power you hold.
You hurt me; then, taunt me afterward. You know what I want, but you won't give it to me. You make me work and work and work, with no let up.
But things are changing. I will make you mine. I will make pay for those years of bringing me to my knees.
The only question I have for you....do you want to choose a safe word?
