By definition obsession is a persistent idea or impulse that continually forces its way into consciousness, often associated with anxiety and mental illness. As insanity is a mental illness or derangement. So is it fair to say that insanity and obsession are one in the same? Can a love so strong drive someone to insanity? The mind is a brilliant thing, while it also contains uncharted territory. The line between the state of being real and fantasy sometimes runs thin.
The piano echoed angelic melodies below her fingers tips, and she was breath taking. Her long blonde curly hair tumbled over her shoulders like waterfall's. Her deep blue eyes glistened under the stage lights, like two stars shining down from heaven. The form fitting black dress hugged her curves with perfection. Her long supple legs were a temptation all of there own.Her voluminous breasts peeking from her dress were so inviting, and I was drawn in instantly. I wanted to have her, and I would.
I had never had such forceful feelings, and it was as if I had no control of my actions. I have always been a gentleman is my past days, or at least I would like to think so. But ever since she moved in to the apartment across the hall, a frenzy erupted inside me. I can't sleep, eat, or even concentrate at work. Her sweet perfumes finds me in the hall, even long after her departure.
I was unaware if she even knew of my existence in her world. Sure we exchanged a few hello's, but did she realize the effect she had on a man? Her actions did not perceive her to be unkind or full of arrogance, and yet I was intimidated by her beauty.
I usually sat in the back her her shows, I didn't want to alarm her. I didn't want her to label me as some kind of stalker, because I was far from this. I was a romantic, and I had only ever been in love once before. This, this excitement that dwells deep within me, this is unconstrained desire.
I am a simple man by nature, no kids and no drama following me around. Though I was no underwear model I tried to keep in shape, and I kept well groomed. My clothing was always neatly ironed and my shirt snugly tucked into my pants. At the ripe age of 36 I thought I looked pretty good. My brown curly hair was kept neatly trimmed at a short length and I did not carry any facial hair. I was average size and I stood about 6'1 which was apparently a plus to most woman. I visited the gym at least three times a week. Lately with all the temptation and extra need of release, I found myself there more frequently.
I yearned to run my fingers through her golden hair and my heartbeat like a tribal drum at the thought of her smile. She only ever smiled directly at me once.
I remember the exact day, it was July 15th and I remember because it rained something fierce that day. I love the rain, it always seems to wash everything anew. On this particular day she was wearing grey dress pants and a black blouse that revealed curves. Her fingers were painted a princess pink which matched her pedicures toes. Her black open toed heels did her feet no justice, and on her wrist she sported a silver Pandora charm bracelet. I hadn't noticed a ring on her finger that day or any day after. Her perfume intoxicating scent was overwhelming, and I inhaled it deeply. She had her hands full and I had held the door for her, that's when she looked back to thank me with a smile.
That was the day that I fell in love with her, the day I knew my heart could never belong to another. That was they day it all began, my obsession. At first my flirtations were very subtle, and she seemed to be oblivious to my affection toward her. She always gave the impression she was in a hurry, but always polite mannered.
I had begun thinking of another approach, an alternate avenue to drag her attention in my direction. Then it dawned on me, I could ask if she offered piano lessons. I could be her student, and she would be my teacher, but a teacher of many things. I would have access to her undivided attention. I could win her over and she would see were were destine to be soul mates.
How would I accomplish this, what would my first point of contact be? I had thought about sliding a note under her door, but that would convey to be impersonal. Maybe I could just knock on the door and ask her face to face. It was possible maybe luck would be on my side and she might strike up a conversation. Did I have the patience to wait that long, and it was only a chance.
I just slumped down in my favorite chair and sighed with sadness. Who was I kidding I have never had luck with the ladies, she would probably just feel sorry for me and offer me the lessons out of guilt.
I blame the low self-esteem on my mental case of a mother. She always knew how to drag me in the dumps, she always knew how to make me feel like nothing. So it shouldn't have been a surprise to her that I never visited her in that looney bin she inhabited. In all honesty I could careless in she croaked , then I could collect her life insurance and finally leave my past behind. I could still here her voice squawking in my head, "Gabriel you'll never amount to anything in life."
Unfortunately I was her only living relative, so occasionally I was called when she got out of hand. I'm not even clear if she knew who I was anymore. My father took his own life because he couldn't deal with all the stress of loosing his wife to her illness. I was an only child, so I had no siblings to relate with. My mother's parents had disowned her when she gave news of her pregnancy, and my father's parents died in an house fire before I was born. So I was all alone on this earth, beside the few buddies I had from school years. They had their own lives, so it was at random times they were free.
I shook off the horrible memory and returned to my images of her the pianist across the hall.