I know a thing or two about obsession. I have never been one to pace myself and take things in sessions. I know no middle ground. No atom of my existence is spared, and I tend to suffer harm for my disposition.
You see. To me, all is ALL in love and war; I do not possess the ability to play it cool. I want it all, or I want it dead.
Thankfully, although my heart is obsessive, my mind knows shame and is the only thing saving you from me.
You see, my mind has preserved you from my clutches, and you should be eternally grateful. It spares you from the horrors of watching me unfold myself, insert myself in your space, and give you everything I have and am. It gives you a chance to run as fast as your legs can take you and never look back.
My mind provides a buffer. It informs me of when I’ve taken things too far, which is usually at the beginning. It screams bloody murder till I’m stopped dead in my tracks, unable to take another step for fear of error. It keeps me in check, isn’t that wonderful news?
I have learnt to conceal myself. It makes no sense to make you the object of all my desires; it’s a fool’s folly in fact. I am aware of the obscenity that is my affection, and in the true nature of having deep feelings for you, I will not put you in that position.
