Obsessive Friendship Novels & Stories

"Your this craziness ego will only take you away from everything Merry it will not bring anything good to you. This is not the love you are feeling but you are obsessed. Because of this, you lost a friend like Ryan" Listening to this Merry took heavy breaths. "Lover will always support you, even God cannot tell you, but a friend will always support another friend even the person wrong." "Remember those memories with Ryan those playing and fun you had together. He always supports you as a friend" She decided to shut her mouth. "Remember those moments when everything was going so good between both of you until you got the obsession in your mind." Aaron's words hypothesised her to remember ever

I muttered meeting with Winifred's gaze. Wini's level of possessiveness can be likened to an obsession. She is extremely uncomfortable with the idea of me being close to anyone who is not part of our circle of friends. In particular, she becomes quite agitated if I happen to forge a bond with someone who I feel is worth being called a friend. She knows I don't mingle with anyhow people and once I begin to call someone my friend, that person is just as important in my life as her. And I wouldn't deny that Matt is someone special...

What is this, if not more than friendship? I couldn’t deny it anymore. Friendship wasn’t enough to explain why her happiness had become my obsession, why the smallest frown on her lips sent dread clawing through me, why her smile could light up what felt like a thousand dead skies. When every room I entered, my eyes were pulled toward her. When every action I took carried the weight of what she might think. When she haunted me, waking and sleeping. Is that friendship? Or am I deluding myself again? The hours slipped by in a haze of stolen glances. The glass wall between us was a thin veil; she never noticed me staring, never thought it strange that I always kept it transparent.

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."

Their love story wasn’t like the regular type of romance, it was unhinged, and I tell you he displayed some pretty deeply alarming traits but unfortunately my best friend seems to love him more for that. Both of them are crazily, obsessively in love with each other, they’ve got this genuinely nauseating level of devotion for each other and anyone with functioning eyesight could see it. He’s so obsessed with her that it’s honestly both cute and mildly terrifying at the same time. I mean have been to just two gatherings with the both of them and have watched the way he watches her like she’s the only fucking person he sees in a room full of people, have seen it in the way Bryan tracks Kieran’s

UNKNOWN Smack..."If I can't have her, then no other person will get her." Obsession is misunderstood by most people; some think it’s chaotic. Messy. Uncontrolled. It’s not. Not when it’s done right. When it’s real and it’s precise. Careful. Patient. It watches. Learns. Waits and most importantly It chooses.

As far as Denise was concerned, she had hit solid gold and she wasn't about to let go. She and Amanda became inseparable, although Amanda’s friendship was a bit overbearing and stifling. For starters, she did not want Denise to have any other friends, or even talk to anyone else in their class or anywhere else. It was like being with a toxic and extremely jealous partner. Also, Amanda expected Denise to be at her beck and call at all times, regardless of whatever else she had going on. She was the obsessive kind of friend.

Never. Another unsavory thought (it seemed the moment for spontaneous, unpleasant self-reflection): how much of our friendship was founded on the comfort of knowing that someone else in the world was also fucked up, rather than actual affection? How much of my inclination toward Bobby was motivated by the relief in knowing there was at least one other weakling cripple in town to . . .

They weren't wrong. We'd met two years ago. A corridor, the worst possible timing, and Diana pressing something into my hand without a word or a question or a single trace of judgment. That was it. That was all it took. Friends didn't even feel like the right word anymore. She was just… mine. And I was hers. Two women with bruises in different places, making it work one chaotic day at a time. *Sisters from another mister,* she'd said once, and we'd both laughed until our eyes watered.