Book Obsession Novels & Stories

I want you to come to our final union as my bride. 'Three more days, my love. Three more days until we're united forever.' 'Eternally yours, Damien' I felt sick. The casual way he talked about murder, about stealing my life, about this twisted version of love he'd convinced himself was real—it was beyond disturbing. "He's completely insane," I said quietly. "He's obsessed," Maya corrected. "And obsession can be more dangerous than insanity. Insane people are unpredictable. But obsessed people follow patterns, fixate on specific goals."

I can't rest my mind, so I put my bags in a corner, time for me to think about a way out. My phone is ringing. I thought I had muted it. Am I losing my mind? It is ringing again. I tell myself that my publisher is probably urging me for my second volume of 'The old perfume in the cupboard. ' I grab my phone, a little re-motivated. And there, my enthusiasm crashes down when I see the name of Paul appear on my screen.

Brock asked one evening, trying to start a conversation. “It’s fine, Dad.” “Need any help with the research?” “No.” “Reinna, how about you? What are you reading in English?” Mom chimed in. “We’re doing The Great Gatsby,” I replied, trying to sound intellectual. “It’s about the hollowness of the American Dream and the impossibility of recapturing the past.” I glanced at Austin, practically beaming the word “intellectual” across the table. He didn't even twitch. He just cut his chicken with extreme precision. The way he held his knife and fork, like he was surgically removing the food from the plate, was hypnotizing.

I saw a different side of him, something vast and deep, and my brain is still processing and rolling it around in my head. The lecture hall has small chairs, and I can’t help but brush up against Noah’s broad shoulders as he gets settled. Goose bumps pop up on my arm each time it brushes into his. I should move, but I can't now without it looking like I can't stand being close to him. I nonchalantly ease away from him. “You got a pen I can borrow?” he asks me, and I turn my head, which has been staring down at my notebook, looking intently at nothing.

I have always loved writing and I'm so happy that we young writers are being given a chance to come out of our shelves and write on a big platform like Good Novel. When I found out that there was a writing app like Good Novel, I was elated, it was like all my dreams came through. Personally, Writing for me isn't just a way or means of making money, it's a passion and source of happiness. About The Book I started researching on mental disorders one morning and I came across a disorder called O.L.D, Obsessive Love Disorder, it's a mental disorder that makes a person abnormally obsessed with a person, this disorder plays with the person's mind and head into believing that the other person is t

I dоn’t need іѕ tо ѕреnd аnоthеr mоmеnt оf energy оn ѕоmеоnе whо won’t treat me wеll, but I саn’t hеlр mуѕеlf. Agаіn, I wоndеr аbоut оbѕеѕѕіоn and whу thе tеntасlеѕ rеасh іntо every аѕресt of my lіfе.

He shook her from his mind and pushed open the doors to the study. The rug-lined room was bigger than B’s above-garage apartment. Floor to ceiling bookshelves dampened any noise B might made in his whiskey search. There didn’t seem to be a single inch of space on any one of the shelves. Books of all colors, textures, and sizes were packed together. In front of the book spines sat hundreds of little treasures–seashells, pocket watches, glass figurines, and carvings of creatures. So many creatures. B let his fingers drift over the book spines: The Picture of Dorian Gray. The Catcher in the Rye. The Odyssey. Brave New World. The Call of the Wild. White Noise. So many stories he’d never read and

The designer puled out a knife from her bag and smiled at the crowed. I slammed the book shut with a loud groan and threw it across the room. I'd bought this book in hopes of getting an inspiration to try and get a design out. But from the beginning up to the part of the first run way show, the entire book was about a creepy designer stealing corpses and is obsessed with dressing them up. There was a whole weird chapter dedicated to how obsessed she was about measuring their sizes and trying to find the right fabric to make the dresses because the longer the body stays in her basement, the more decomposed they get. So she needed a clothe that would fit them at any size.

“He was crying, Beck. Like raw, ugly tears when he said Jared took something he loved.” She looked Beck in the eyes. “I don't think that was just jealousy or heartbreak. It was something else. He was… devastated.” "Obsession also doesn't fuel a six year hunt," Hayden added, putting his arm around her as if he needed the physical contact to stay grounded. "Obsession makes you messy. This man is precise.” He gestured sharply to the rose, the note, the whole night. “This is… organized. This is patience. This is years of planning.”

Shoving her way out into the cool, open air of the world, she looked back at her apartment. The clock appeared in her mind, calling to her. She knew this was the start of an obsession, she could feel it in her bones. Maybe after she finished fixing it, she would keep it for a few days, just to properly enjoy it before giving it back. Backing down the driveway, it was on her mind so much that her eyes tricked her into thinking it was watching her go from her bedroom window.