Notes I Won’t Reread

My dear obsession,
You’ll never understand what it’s like to live inside a mind that only knows your name.

I dream of light, too much light. It fills my head until I can’t breathe. I wake up searching for it, and my hands are empty or filled with blood. I was made to chase what I can’t have. That's what she is, the unreachable light that burns my eyes, but I still stare because I’d rather go blind than look away. I can’t read, I can’t eat, I can’t look at anything without my mind crawling back to her face. Kill me already. No. It’s not love. Not breathing, love lets you rest. This doesn’t. It claws. It takes. It eats you alive until there’s nothing left but her name, her face, her words echoing inside my head, echoing inside my soul, echoing inside my heart, echoing inside my lungs. I can’t stand how deeply she’s under my skin. I can’t. Every word she says cuts too deep, every glance she gives someone else makes something inside me twist, not because I hate her, but because I can’t stop wanting her, I can’t stop needing her. I argue, I shout, I say things I shouldn’t, and then I hate myself for it. But even then, in the middle of the madness, I need her. I can’t breathe without her, I can’t think straight when she’s not around. She makes me furious, and yet she’s the only thing that feels real. It’s poison and medicine at the same time; my sickness eats me. I know it’s toxic. I know I’m losing pieces of myself every day I stay, but I can’t let go. I’d rather burn with her than live without her, and it drives me insane.

Sincerely,
Your obsessive admirer
Ahmed