Obsessive feelings are like wildfires, start so small no one notices, rage with a fury, end with a curl of smoke expanding into nothing, and one day everyone has forgotten it but you.

There are things I have done in the past that I am not proud of, that I can’t take back, that I can’t make right, for which Adam hates me. As I got sick, a voice appeared in my head, his voice. No one knew that but me. And with it came the delusion that I was to talk to my soulmate, Adam, telepathically, but he did not know he was my soulmate and that I thought we talked. No one understood the delusion but me. He didn’t understand why I threw a brick through his window, put a piece of gum on his car, a nail file on his windshield, me, an unwanted violator sending him signals I thought he would understand. I feared myself a long time. I hated me, but I had to know: was he the voice in my head? 

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