I am not a child who has a toy for a mind

When I was a little girl, I had a pack of textas that smelt like different fruits. The pink was strawberry and the brown, coconut. These markers were my pride and joy and made my constant colouring much more rewarding as my experiences were full of such amazing fragrances.
As I used no other markers, naturally the ink in my pens began to run out. I decided that by licking the end of my favourite (strawberry) I would extend the life of the ink. When this action failed, that was when I realised that these pens may, in fact, be toxic.
I had asked my mother, "What happens if you lick a texta?"
She looked at me with an almost excited and amused face, "You die! You'll wake up tomorrow dead."
Well, as any regular six year old, the concept of death scared me and I tried to resist sleep as I feared the other side.
When I did wake up the following morning, I believed that it was a miracle.
And now I see, that in the exact same way that my mother played with my mind as a six year old, an association of mine is manipulating me at eighteen. I have been fed information that I can do nothing else but believe because of the trust that my heart has instilled.
When I woke up to the lie I had been fed at six, I felt hurt that my own mother had convinced me of my death. Now I feel no different as I have come to the realisation of my real relationship I share with someone I would give up my world for.
Maybe I should have learnt last time... After the incident with the markers, I would always scrutinise the information my mother fed me, and instead I would ask my father. Perhaps it is natural progression - I have stepped outside the boundaries of this relationship and woken up to reality...

I have been the victim of mind games: I would like to hereby prohibit any person or persons from using the mind of Kitty for recreational use from this date forward.

Because I have to live with your broken toy.