r/Obsessive_Love

So there is this person at the school I go to and she is just so perfect for me, I obsess over her all the time and she looks really pretty, shes kind and also funny, the thing is, shes just out of my league socially, shes one of the popular girls and I'm one of the loners who are obsessed with horror and thinks called "weird", I only stay with one friend group and barely speak to anyone outside of them, inside of lessons I barely talk to anyone and I'm just really unpopular/bullied, and I'm not sure if her funny comments/sarcastic remarks are her being rude to me because I am just so obsessed over her, I mean her hair, face, makeup, personality are just such my type, but I don't know if Im blinded by love to be loving her and brushing these comments off as jokes, I'm just so obsessed with her, she just seems so kind yet sometimes joins in on the bullying but its not as severe as the others, it's just lighthearted jokes we both sorta laugh about, idk anything about her as we live in completely different worlds, we get on the same bus and we sometimes talk with each other, I mean this girl (we'll call her Erin as I'm not revealing her real name) is just so pretty and I admire her so much, but I'm nervous to ask her out or even approach her as she's popular and I used to be popular but I'm now bullied for my past and personal stuff that happened years ago, not to mention, I just can't seem to fit in anywhere else from my friend group, yet Erin is just so kind and funny to me, but as I said again, I don't know if I could even approach her as we are in 2 seperate worlds and I'm not sure if those "jokes" are her bullying me, I'm really obsessed with her, but I don't know if I could even speak to her without her speaking to me first, this is backed up by the fact that in my opinion, I'm really ugly. Thanks for listening to my rant and I hope you all can give me advice on this situation

"I'm different now!"

I say with a smile,

And then later that night?

I'm scrolling through the ghost of you.

Trying to catch a scent to find you all over again.

Images upon images of others I couldn't give less of a shit about.

Essays of text I skim just to test the sound in my mouth and figure out if it's you.

That's not what you'd say. That's not what you'd do. That's not what you look like. None of it is you.

My nails bitten down to stubs and my heart pounding and beating like a drum. My mind swirling with what could've happened to you. What you could be doing. Who you could be with. Why it isn't me.

Paranoia settles next.

I know you know where I am.

I'm right where you left me. Sitting in the same spot like a dog abandoned.

Pacing around a pole. Feeling my leash get tenser as my circles get smaller. Walking the other way. Feeling it get loose again.

Too loose.

I hate when this leash feels too loose.

If it's tight at least I know someone else is holding onto the other end.

Or at least it feels like it.

I'm a church leader now.

I give sermons on my blog.

Words and words I spout out that reflect my heart and bring reverence to the congregation.

Likes and reblogs abound.

Attention aplenty.

Abundance personified.

Messages filling the inbox to the point of spilling over, abandoned on the ground and flapping away from me.

Nothing else feeling right except the tug of my heart strings you still have on me.

Even in absence.

It's fucking annoying, you know.

The feeling that my missing piece is no longer apart of my world.

The feeling that it probably was just a piece I was cramming into myself to feel whole but I wasn't making them feel whole at all.

I'd rather just break.

I'd really genuinely rather just break.

Poetry is just paint splashed upon the walls at this point.

A desperate cry for help I'm not even sure who I'm screaming to.

A need in my heart I can't fulfill without the help of other people and other people feeling like monsters who want to hurt me to make themselves smile.

At least you expected nothing of me.

At least I wasn't anything to you.

A dissociated life brought back to a harsh reality.

Feeling each tooth in my mouth and every fiber on my skin.

A sensory nightmare accompanied by the feeling of missing you.

The worst feeling of all.

I'm never getting it back, huh?

And nothing else is filling the void?

What a rotten shame.

I thought my heart was bigger than this.

I'll keep passing it to people like it's a game of hot potato for now.

Giving in to the hype of other people even if they terrify me. Even if I feel like they might rip me apart.

Hopefully someone will hold my heart someday.

Hopefully it'll all feel warm again without ever finding another peep of you.

Or maybe I'll get to know you're ok.

I wonder if it'd hurt more than never knowing.

Seeing you ok without me.

I'm pathetic.

may break my bones but that's nothing compared to the death tones of being alone...

I think my future husband is going to regret meeting me.

Not because I’ll hurt him,

but because I love like a natural disaster.

The moment he becomes mine,

I already know I’ll start memorizing him in terrifying ways.

The veins in his hands.

The exact sound of his footsteps.

The way his breathing changes when he’s angry,

or tired,

or trying not to cry.

I’ll notice everything.

That’s the dangerous part.

I’ll know when his smile is fake

before anyone else does.

I’ll know when something’s wrong

just from the way he says “I’m fine.”

I’ll study him so deeply

that even silence will become a language between us.

And God…

I hope he’s clingy.

I hope he follows me around the house for no reason.

I hope he gets possessive over my attention in stupid little ways.

I hope he sends me random messages

just because he missed me for five minutes.

I hope he looks at me sometimes

like he genuinely cannot believe I exist.

Because I don’t want calm love.

I don’t want distant love.

I don’t want a man who acts too cool to care.

I want a man whose love leaks out everywhere accidentally.

A man who pulls me closer in his sleep.

Who gets worried when I go quiet.

Who kisses me like he’s trying to make sure I’m real.

Who says my name differently from everyone else

like it actually means something in his mouth.

Sometimes I imagine him after an argument.

Sitting there angry, frustrated, exhausted

but still unable to stay away from me for long.

Still reaching for my hand unconsciously.

Still choosing me, even while upset.

That’s the kind of love I crave.

Not perfection.

Just obsession mixed with loyalty.

I want to be loved so loudly

that even my insecurities feel embarrassed for existing.

And honestly,

I think he’ll be just as insane as me.

I think one day there’ll be a man

looking at me with this helpless expression,

realizing way too late

that his entire mood now depends on whether I’m okay.

A man who says he needs “space”

then lasts thirty minutes before coming back to me.

A man who pretends to be logical

until it comes to me.

Because I don’t think my soulmate will love me normally.

I think he’ll love me in a way

that makes the rest of the world look emotionally shallow.

I think something inside me broke a long time ago.

Maybe it was every time I loved someone gently

and got treated like I was temporary.

Maybe it was every promise that turned into distance,

every “I’ll stay” becoming another goodbye.

After a while,

soft love stopped feeling real to me.

People say love is supposed to be freeing,

healthy, calm.

But calm love never held me tight enough

to convince me it was permanent.

I don’t want a man who barely notices my absence.

I don’t want a man who’s emotionally detached,

who acts nonchalant,

who lets me walk away without panic in his eyes.

No.

I want my future husband to love me in a way

that borders on insanity.

I want him obsessive.

Possessive in the most intimate ways.

The type of man who looks at me

like I’m the greatest thing God ever let him touch.

I want him crazy about me.

The kind of crazy where my name lives in his bloodstream.

Where he carves my name into his skin one day

not for attention,

not for aesthetics,

but because loving me became part of his body.

I want him to think about me constantly.

To crave me when I leave the room.

To pull me back into his arms

when other people keep me too long.

And maybe people would call that toxic.

Maybe they’d look at me strangely

for wanting devotion this intense.

But they don’t understand what it feels like

to spend your whole life begging quietly to be chosen.

I have loved people who made me feel replaceable.

Forgettable.

Easy to lose.

So now I crave a love that makes replacement impossible.

I want a husband who refuses to let me feel unwanted ever again.

A man who gets jealous of my attention

because he adores me that deeply.

A man who would rather stay home with me

than be anywhere else in the world.

Not because he owns me.

But because in his mind,

nothing compares to me.

I want to be cherished obsessively.

Protected obsessively.

Loved with terrifying loyalty.

The kind of loyalty where cheating would disgust him.

Where other women stop existing romantically

the moment he falls in love with me.

I want him to look at me

like I am both heaven and ruin.

Like touching me rewired something in his brain permanently.

And God…

I hope he understands my mind.

Because my mind is loud.

Unstable sometimes.

Overthinking everything.

Feeling too much all at once.

I need a man who won’t run from that intensity.

A man who’ll hold my face during my worst moments

and love me harder instead of leaving.

I don’t want to be loved carefully.

I want to be loved completely.

Even if it’s overwhelming.

Even if it’s consuming.

Even if the entire world thinks we’re too much.

Because after spending so long feeling unloved,

I think I deserve a love so intense

that it finally silences every fear

inside my head.

Out of all things I had to be an obsessive lover girl who loved too much, make someone the center of my gravity, my world and gets hurt because of my own intensity at loving them.

You

I hate these withdrawals,

the way I claw and shake

For you

It could never be fake

I'd crawl hands and knees just to please these growing needs

For you

These aches and shakes—

Gods, how long will this take?

You

Seeing and hearing things too,

like your voice on cue,

with the lovely shadow shaped like you

You

Just to feel your sin upon my skin,

humble the instinctive crumble from your absence

You

Bleeding from my eyes, without seeing under your careful disguise

Hooked—it's bad,

and I don't want rehab

The clock—its never-ending ticks

You.

You.

You...

I just need my eternal fix.

You

~

Listings upon listings.

Products upon products.

Various taglines, upselling each individual to its fullest potential- or at least attempting to.

Words and pictures plastered all over.

So I put up my picture too.

For sale like an object.

Desperate words trying to convince passerby that I'm the best deal they'll get-

Customer reviews stating quite the contrary.

"Too clingy, tried to get me to stop spending time with my friends- 1/5 stars"

"Made fake phone numbers because I blocked hers- 1/5 stars"

"Weird- 2/5 stars"

But those don't matter, do they?

Everyone here is a product just as well as me.

Desperate for a love that may never come.

For a forever home without threats of returns.

Each of us defective in our own way, hoping for someone who will love and appreciate our quirks as we learn to love their own.

So why does it hurt when I feel like a product?

Why does it ache when I feel like a bruised apple on the shelf, eyeballed and judged?

Like a piece of meat- all my bits of meat splayed across the counter of the butcher as people judge which of my parts are passable- which can be let into their homes?

"That review actually is kind of a turn on"

I get approached with leering eyes, an attempt at an earnest compliment feeling almost worse than the rest.

Part of me wishes I wasn't the pork on the table but rather the pig at the farm.

Wishing to be adopted in as a pet rather than eaten whole.

All of me wishes somebody would just take me home already, to decide my fate so I don't have to decide mine.

To force me to find my love upon them.

To keep me.

So that I don't have to do the same to another and feel the same hesitance and resistance I end up tossing to those around me.

I wish love was enough to tie me to another person.

I wish that there was just a string at the end of my pinky I could follow and follow until I find my person.

No struggles at the auction as I go to the highest bidder, as I go to the one that fulfills the most of my requirements just as I do theirs.

I wish we could just know.

But instead I'm online shopping.

Just as disgusted at myself as I am with others.

Hopefully I'll at least keep making some new friends.

Maybe that's all I'm good for in the end.

One day I’ll love my husband so intensely

he’ll never have to question if he matters to someone

I’ll memorize the smallest things about him

the way his voice sounds when he’s exhausted

the exact look in his eyes when something is hurting him

the foods he pretends not to like but secretly finishes anyway

I’ll love him in ways that become instinct

fixing his collar before he notices it’s crooked

saving the last bite for him without thinking

staying awake just to make sure he got home safely

I want to become the place he runs to first

before the world

before his friends

before his pride

I’ll adore him shamelessly

speak about him like he hung the stars himself

look at him like I’m still in disbelief that someone so beautiful chose me

And maybe my love will be a little dangerous

because once I love

I love completely

I’ll crave his attention like air

want every sleepy “I’m home”

every random update during his day

every quiet moment where it’s just us existing together while the rest of the world disappears

I don’t even know how to cook

or cut a pineapple properly

but I’d still make sure he never stays hungry

I’d order food at ridiculous hours

sit beside him and feed him pieces while he talks about his day

wipe sauce off his lips with my thumb like it’s the most natural thing in the world

I want to love my husband so deeply

that even on his worst days

he still feels wanted

still feels chosen

still feels like someone is hopelessly devoted to him

I want him spoiled with affection

kissed endlessly

held possessively

protected fiercely

The kind of love where I notice when his smile is forced

where I can tell something is wrong just by the way he says my name

where his pain quietly becomes mine too

I’ll make our love feel consuming in the gentlest way possible

like warmth he can never escape from

like being adored so thoroughly that loneliness forgets his name

And if life ever turns cruel to him

I’ll stand beside him through every ugly moment

loving him with a devotion so unwavering

it borders on obsession

Not because I want to control him

but because loving him will become part of my bloodstream

something permanent

something instinctive

something that follows him for the rest of his life like a heartbeat beside his own