Obsessed; absolutely mad.

May 21, 2011
She was obsessed; absolutely mad. Summer hit her like a brick wall – solid and unmoving – and the impact was terrible.  With a rush of warm air, it was back, and so was he.  There was this smell among them all; a sweet stench so recognizable, yet completely unexplainable.  The sun beat down and left the familiar feeling on her skin – dry, warm, tingling.  Not knowing what a massive mistake it would be, she listened to a song – it tore her apart.  The notes pierced her ears, and ran through her gut – this was sacred, this was not meant to be heard. How dare she? 

The presence of the circumstance attacked her from every direction; nowhere was she safe.  Everything was done for one purpose – it was hauntingly wrong.  Priorities were lost, dreams and hopes mutated into desperation. 

She was obsessed; absolutely mad.  Yet she lived for it.  The memories drenched her like boiling water, and scorched her until she was destroyed.  But she was addicted.

The desires of her heart were impure – they forced her to do wrong.  And she did wrong. And she did wrong. And she did wrong.

When everything was still, she was anxious. When everything was moving, she was overwhelmed. Nothing could be done right.

Moments in her life brought utter peace - half of her hated those moments. She was obsessed; absolutely mad. She needed her fix, and she believed the fix needed her. Needed her. Not wanted, not desired, not even longed for. Needed. And yet, she didn’t even know if the fix wanted or desired or longed for her.  But she was delusional – she would believe what she wanted.

So she hid in her mind; in her imagination she took rest.  It was the only thing that could save her from this rush of summer.  This rush of love.  This rush of obsession. She was obsessed; absolutely mad.