Lucille was a strong-willed woman, independent and sure of herself. She had always decided where her relationships went and when did they finish. Until she met Albert. He was the perfect man for her, intelligent, strong and independent. When Lucille first met him, she thought they could work, and she fell in love. She fell in love as she hadn't fallen before.
However, Albert was too independent for her. Lucille, the one that always made men wait, was not the one who waited for a phone call, for a text message. Her mood swung as his attention did, and Lucille had the feeling that his feelings weren't as strong, that, for him, she was just a way to spend some time, until another came along. Lucille's week passed in periods of hating and loving him, not daring to confront him.
She almost didn't recognize herself. When did she become a toy to play with as he pleased? Yet, for every time she stayed strong telling herself she didn't need him, came another one where she wondered where would she be able to find another one like him. Lucille was addicted to him because she was having him in small doses. She who had always hated girls who were always worried about their boyfriends, had become one of them. She hated herself because of it, she hated herself for not being strong enough to stand up and ask for what she deserved: truly undivided attention, not the scraps of someone's love.
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