Obsession

            I stare at my phone, wanting to text you, yet wishing you would take the initiative.  And then not wishing it…because I actually want to get some sleep tonight—because I feel like I should think about something else for a change.
            I consumed that book in three days.  It was a busy weekend, actually.  You’d think I would have been distracted, like I intended.  I did a lot, but I feel like I spent all my time thinking of you.  How did I go so many places?
            I get on facebook, but you don’t get on often.  When you do, you post cryptic statuses that make me questions your motives—and your sanity.  But then I remember that if somebody’s insane, it’s me.
            I can’t delete your text messages.  I can’t forget your comments.  Your face is the backdrop for my life.  I feel helpless.  I’m obsessed.