Obsession

-I almost checked his Facebook page again, today. While one hand was typing the other one closed the tab. It's an internal fight. A part of me wants to know what he is doing, the other takes me back to reality, a reality where he doesn't know I exist and where my obsession is pathetic. Yet, I long to see him. 

My therapist shifted from his seat making it creak. I never looked at her when I talked about Steve, I always looked through the window, I didn't want to see the look of disappointment on her face. 

-You see him every day, Tara. 

-You know what I mean. This week I've only checked his Facebook page twice.-I admitted guilty.- And his Tumblr three times.-I added after a silence.- I didn't reblog anything, though! 

-Tara, do you remember what did I tell you when we started with this? 

I did remember, but I didn't want to. I had been dragged there by my mother, she was worried because I was acting weirdly, although dad had told her it was because I was a teenager. She wasn't convinced and spied on me. When she found out what I was doing she decided it was enough and forced me to start therapy. 

-Tara? 

-Yes, you said that I had to cut any kind of interaction with him. Any kind that weren't face to face. But I can't talk to him! Have you seen me? Why would he want to talk to me? 

-So you rather think he's talking to someone else, right? 

That hit home. I had been pretending to be a much more beautiful girl to talk to him. Natalie was pretty enough and brave enough to talk to him, and I hid behind her. 

-But I was happy! 

-No, you weren't Tara, you were obsessed and obsession has never led to happiness.