Obsession
Again I lay awake in my bed, thinking about it. Why is it so important? Why is it still here? Why can’t I find peace and fall asleep? These questions hover in my mind for hours, keeping me up, my brain heating up with thoughts, links and hopes.
Hope that what I desire is possible. Hope that my imagination isn’t trying to trick me again. Hope that all I believe is true.
It isn’t the first time it’s happened. The hunger for something. The sheer power of it has driven me insane for weeks before. The thoughts, the jealousy, the obsession. Many nights before have I spent thinking about what I wished for, many hours wasted with only one thing in mind. Many minutes wasted with it right in front of me, yet so far away.
I can’t even understand it. I can’t understand my own feelings. Is it even a feeling? Does it even mean anything? Is it present as compensation for something recently lost? Is it something that can’t be explained? Would I even want to understand were answers available?
This obsession makes me both happy and troubled. It’s so sudden, so uncontrollable. It is all new and interesting in a life devoid of entertainment and creation. It pulls at moments, pushes at others. Like a roller coaster of love and despair.
Can I let it overwhelm me? Can I sacrifice control of myself for the tingly feeling it gives me? Should I let it take over, let it guide me? I don’t comprehend it, it drives me insane. It feels right, but thinking about it makes it feel wrong.
I can’t let it go. It won’t let me forget about it. It’s fighting to remain in my head until I act upon it or find another obsession. But the act is scary. So many unknown variables, so many parameters I can’t predict. It’s a venture into a dark void. Is it part of the pleasure? Will it matter that I try to understand things that can’t be understood?
Is fear the only thing between me and this fixation? It’s so close to me. Available. Possibly awaiting a move on my part, but blinded by the same curtain of doubt. Do I have the power to face it? Can I muster the courage to present myself naked before it, only as the man I really am? Is the end worth losing control?
It seems so. As everyday goes by, there isn’t one that doesn’t end with those thoughts. There isn’t one that doesn’t start with those images. Her smile and its gentle nature. Her eyes and the magnificent understanding I see within them. Her hair and its soothing curves. Her face and its promise of escape.
Every dream I have, she haunts. Every drifting thought I think, she invades. Every lonely moment I live, she leads. Every image I see, she dismisses.
Her hold on me is of my own doing. There is only one exit.
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