I’ve been hopelessly hopeful, but I’m now hopeless enough.

            For twenty-one damn years, I’ve been attempting to fulfill this ideal of me. This somehow stereotyped hope of what I would be. I have always been the sibling with talent, with the intelligence that others so ardently desired. But, guess what? NOTHING HAS BEEN FUFILLED. I am here alone in all aspects of life.

            With no concrete plan post-graduation, which is steadily approaching, and no damn love life to lay upon. I am all alone.

            I am afflicted by a disease. I have a psychological incompetence. One of those unnatural, inescapable conditions. I like to call it the Obsession. The total and inadvertent desire to be with another. A specific sort of other. I am obsessed with pretty little sympathetic figures that so tirelessly desire me, and with whom I could live a perfect life without. I so ardently wish to be part of their lives that I end up degrading and sacrificing my own existence for the pure pleasure of seeing them in the need of me.

         I need help. None of this makes sense.

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