I’m obsessed with something that’s easy to be obsessive over because there’s a little part of my brain saying never let it go. That’s how it started. I discovered something that felt better than ecstasy and I can’t seem to find it again. It irks me to the point that it’s all I write about. Every single line, every single stanza, all stems from one thought…one memory. I’m encased in what used to be pure bliss when all I’ve been trying to do is break out. The only thing I know is that it’s a fickle thing to pine over, but it will be mine once again. That’s how it will cease.