For me, the lines between love and obsession has always been blurred. I never understood the difference until my first romantic encounter. The first boy I’ve ever been obsessed with was named Ronald. He was a well known boy in at my high school. He spotted me, he asked one of my friends for my number and the rest is history. He’s the first boy I had created feelings for and he’s the first boy to ever betray me. The full history of our relationship is long and shows how idoitic and naïve I was. I imagined having kids with him, going to the same college as him, I revolved my entire future around him.
Luckily, obsession’s cloak began to fall and I realized that he was only an obsession. It came to me, when his face was between my thighs, that I never actually liked him. I was just obsessed with who he could be, who I wanted him to be. The feelings I thought I had for him were created by me, in my mind, to hide my obsession. That’s when disgust came in. One interesting thing about obsession is its relation to disgust. I remember looking down at Ronald during the act. His tongue was becoming well acquainted with my left labia and he seemed to be enjoying himself. But I wasn’t enjoying it at all. My idealized version of him had worn off and he was just a plain, useless boy. He was never special, I just wanted him to be in my head.
I am obsession.
My handmade personality is based on obsession
And with my own ideals of my being.
My overwhelming love is based on obsession.
Once I met someone I like,
They consume my thoughts,
My eating habits,
My sleep schedule,
My physical needs
And my emotions needs.
My high education and intelligence is based on obsession.
I only go to one of the best universities in the states
Because I want to be the best,
I want to be seen as the best,
I want to be better than you
I am obsessed
And I am nothing
Without my own obsessions.
Love is not that simple.
Love in not that simple to me.
Other people experience it as
Something fresh, pleasant and joyful.
I experience it as
a rebirth, dreading and overall painful.
Turns into obsession.
Turns into wanting to be apart of your physical being.
Turns into a burning pain due to how much I crave and desire.
My daily functions depend on your admiration of me.
My mind, body and soul depends on your overall happiness.
Becomes my entire identity.
I am not me if I don’t have or possess you.
I am meaningless without love.
Is this healthy?
No, it isn’t.
But it’s the only way I thrive within my being.
What must I do for your love?
What must I do for you to be mine?
You are the embodiment of perfection and glory.
The sight of you makes my knees weak
And my power, my ego, disappear.
Your boyish appearance and naïve aura
Makes you irresistible and I want to
A man of twenty, but you’re so pure,
So new, to this harsh world.
I was made
I will write for you until my fingers bleed.
I will further damage this world for you.
I will give you my beating heart for your own.
I will crawl on my hands and knees if you asked.
I will only exist for your own happiness and pleasure.
It’s the holiday season, a very special time of year for me. I remember my mother would always make a special meal for my father whenever their relationship got rocky. The meal would always snap him back in place and make him more in love with her.
She never gave me the recipe, but I remember a few key ingredients.
Parsley for better communication.
Paprika to heat up their relationship.
Celery to improve health.
Carrots for sweetness.
And a piece of meat for stability.
I always thought the store bought food wasn’t good enough for you, so I found alternatives like gardening and harvesting my fruits and vegetables. But you can’t garden or harvest meat.
As I pour a nice, big bowl of stew, you stay glued to your phone. A frown washes over across your face as you tell me about how your co-worker didn’t show up to work the past couple of days and how the entire office is worried about her. I placed the bowl in front of you as you continues to tell me the details.
“Enjoy.” Mindlessly, he dives his spoon into the stew and shovel it into his mouth. I observe as he chews and processes his food, slowly becoming more and more confused.
He puts down his phone and spoon and reaches into his mouth to pull out a human toe bone. As he analyzes the bone, he turns to me slowly and says, “how did you know?” With a smirk on my face, I shrug my shoulders and say,
“I just have good intuition, honey.”