The obsession called love

Everything broke. The Earth stopped spinning. The clock stopped ticking. Time froze.

I was in the middle of a storm in my heart, which only I could feel. Now his face is carved in my mind. I think about him constantly. Why? What makes him so special?

I was standing there. Careless. Suddenly approached by a mixture of scents that accompany me since then. Every day.

I come back home and look in the mirror, seeking flaws that will prove that I’ve been placed in the wrong time sphere.

I go there again and look in his eyes, seeking affirmation for everything I felt. Seeking affection I couldn’t find anywhere else.

Why the hell did I think that he was something special? I was impressed by the power. The looks. The brains. Why the hell do I think that he is something better? Just a human. Flesh and bone.

Yet, I’m stood there, feeling unworthy of one even look in my direction, one even word said to me, a bit of interest in my life.

I paint myself invisible and I leave, for I know for sure what I feel. I’m not in love, neither do I love him. I’m obsessed with him.

The obsession called love.