Bless This Obsessed Mess 🫠

I think I might have been the crazy ex-girlfriend...

Butterflies. Crushes. Falling in love. Being a daughter of purity culture, terrified of touch yet dying to have your first kiss. Walking past his house craving him to be outside mowing his lawn. Hearing “your song” on the radio and adding to your internal “To All The Boys I’ve Crushed Before” playlist. Writing down all of the text conversations between you and the boys you like. Hiding in their bushes narrating their father and mother speaking under the kitchen light. Hiking the “kissing tower” and planning your future wedding before you’ve even held hands. Trying to decipher if “Love you,” at the end of his letters mean “I love you” or “love you buddy”. 

Thanks to the work of Nellie Bly, they just don’t put women in insane asylums like they used to.¹ I will not admit to which of these I did (actually I probably will someday if you stick around long enough). It’s only natural…yet the unreciprocated love-to-obsession pipeline runs thick.