I Am Nothing In My Soul If Not Obsessive 소설 & 이야기

“Now? I probably drink until I forget. Or until I hate him enough to stop caring.” “That doesn’t sound healthy.” I let the silence settle between us. The bar’s dim lights painted shadows on the floor, and my buzz was just strong enough to make everything blur at the edges. I leaned forward again, fingers toying with the condensation on my glass. “You ever get so obsessed with someone,” I murmured, “that it’s not even about them anymore? It’s about how they make you feel. How they pull out the ugliest parts of you, and you still keep crawling back like a sick little dog looking for scraps.”

His arm wrapped around my waist, “I work better when I know exactly where you are and what you’re doing.” The dark possession in his voice spread warmth through my chest like honey. I was so fucked. In every sense of the word. “That sounds obsessive,” I said. “It is.” He pressed his nose into my hair, inhaling deeply. “Everything about you makes me obsessive. I used to be able to focus for hours. Now I can’t go twenty minutes without wondering what you’re doing. If you’re comfortable. If you need something. It’s fucking maddening.” “Poor you,” I said, but I was smiling. “Sounds terrible. The big bad mafia boss, brought to his knees by a pregnant woman who can’t stop eating pickles dipped in

My soul doesn’t feel any lighter. XXX

Darkness crashes in. And I feel nothing at all.

Let her feel the violence thudding beneath my skin. “You can never be free, Reina,” I growled. “Not out there. Not in here. You walk out that door again and come back late, I’ll make you pay. You breathe for someone else, I’ll end them. Do you understand?” She shook her head, her voice barely there. “You’re insane.” “I’m obsessed,” I corrected. “There’s a difference. Obsession has purpose. Madness is just noise.” My mouth brushed against her cheekbone, slow, deliberate. “And I only hear you.”

“No, Darren, I can’t, I won’t, just let me go, please, please, I am begging you, just let me go, why are you doing this to me, why are you obsessed with me, why me of all people, what is so broken inside your head that you think this is okay, that you think this is love, that you think this is anything but sick?” “You look like him, you sound like him, you know exactly what you are doing, you are twisting everything good I had, you are using his face and his body against me like it’s a weapon, and it’s killing me, Darren, it’s killing me. “I can’t even breathe looking at you because all I see is him and all I hear is him, but it’s not him, it’s you, and you are sick, you are so sick you need

I need her. I need Lola back to tell me what to do, to chase those demons that are festering and growing inside of my head. I want to hear her voice to drown this madness. I need her or I’m going to lose my mind literary. “Who am I trying to talk to? You are a dead person. You might be standing here in front of me, bleeding, breathing and your heart beating quickly but still dead inside. You know nothing about love or emotions. You don’t feel sad, angry, frustration, or even fear.”

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.

The thought of that doesn’t sound peaceful, it’s wrong, Disruptive but wrong. My chest tightens sharply and I stop breathing for a second too long. No! I force air into my lungs, each breath controlled, measured. As I Inhale again and hold before exhaling out. I press my thumb harder into my palm again until the sting cuts through the noise in my head. This is irrational. This attachment is spiraling into obsession. I don’t like that word, Obsession implies lack of control and i’m always in control. So why won’t my thoughts slow or obey!

9Maya. I’d never been like this before. Not with anyone. Not with myself. Obsession felt like a sickness, something I couldn’t shake, something that turned my days into endless waiting, my nights into hours spent staring at the ceiling, aching and empty and full of wild, helpless want.