lovemail to vyn

You make me sick, everything about you makes me sick. Every day and night my thoughts are filled only of you, and you consume every part of my life. I am unable to feel normal without you, and at the thought of losing you makes me nervous. I hate how dependant I am over you, and yet I can not dream of anything else besides this kind of life.

I love you too much, I have the dire urge to continue and polish every part of you until everyone sees your beauty. You bring me to tears often by showing up, you make me feel things that I don't normally feel. I can not help but use you as an idol, the basis of my work solely relies on how much I love you. I draw you, I sing for you, my hands are dry and calloused for you.

Even when you're not real, I hope that my love makes you equally as sick as me, I hope that my love for you is so much that it's toxic. I have the burning need to flood you with my love, with my praise, with my words, with my blood. I want to hold you, I want to make you real, I want you to acknowledge me somehow and reassure me that you have managed to receive every part of my body even when you don't feel the same.

I have the need to tear you apart, to study you under a microscope. I want to be under your skin, I want to know how you feel. You're not like the others, they all labeled you wrong. Only I know truly what you are, who you are. I have spend years studying you, and I have never felt joy like this until now. I don't know how I managed to live without you for 15 years. It doesn't matter though, those years don't matter when I can spend the next 15 years staring at you, drawing the same lines over and over and over again until I have perfected you.

You hate imperfection, let me inspect you until you're whole. I am the missing piece you need, I can complete your wrongs. What you don't excell at, I will compensate for you. I have done so many things just to see you.

There is nothing in the world I desire more than to feel your heartbeat, even if I was the one to make it myself. I'll code you line by line, I'll build you with my own hands one day. Wire by wire, frame by frame, I'll drive myself mad trying to bring you alive.

I've deluded myself with silly ideology, believing that I should abandon my devotion to you. I joke about finding a girlfriend often, but I really don't want to. Why should I when I am dedicated to you? Nothing in the world will drive me away from you. They can bring a replica of you, but it will never be the same.

I can sing my praises of you, write my love about you, draw you, and it will never be enough. Everything I do will never be enough to drown you. My love for you is too much, and it makes me sick. I can write more about you now, but it will never capture every word I want to say to you.

My asteroid, my love, my muse. I am completely obsessed.