my careless contagion

"This is fine," I keep telling myself. But, dear readers, everything is not fine, though maybe my mess of a life is what makes this blog worth reading. Traced back as far as memory allows, I've had this feeling in my gut that things are not fine, that things will never be fine. One of those things that has never been fine is my relationships with women. You may want to prepare yourself for a long post. There is an image in my mind of the kind of woman I want to love. I mean, I literally see a specific woman in my head, but the list is as such: wholesome, sweet, kind, selfless, cute (or beautiful), smart (but doesn't want me to feel like she's smarter than me), a heart for God, etc. The problem is, women like this don't exist. Okay, they're out there. But not really. They're married. They have kids, jobs. They are busy. They aren't divorced or otherwise available, putting themselves out there. They are smart, so they don't get divorced i...

The above is a screenshot of something I came across on Tumblr. It's wonderful. It's beautiful. It's thrilling that someone cares so much about a movie to put so much thought and talent into a felt pen drawing. And it's fucking scary. Why is it scary? It's obsessive. It's creepy. And it reminds me of my obsession with a certain woman. If I'm a little scared of the level of obsession in a drawing, then I'm sure anyone reading my blog is more than a little concerned about my mental health. And for the object of my affection's wellbeing. Sigh. I fully admit I've been obsessed, and most of my obsession has taken place here in this safe place. I have not stalked her (that I recall). I have not called or texted relentlessly. I got a little carried away with emails (which went increasingly unreturned). If she stopped replying (for the most part), I stopped. That's what most people do, right? That's normal?  In the mind of the obse...