Rantings of an Obsessed Mind

Whenever my phone is silent and inactive, I comfort myself, "He's busy."

I think I'm easily satisfied. All it takes is just a daily phone call - his voice in my ear - and I can go to sleep a happy girl. We don't get to see each other often, probably once a week, and I'm perfectly fine with that. In fact, I think it's healthier this way. 

Yet I crave, pine, yearn to see him every day. Like a lovesick girl. Sometimes I think it's pathetic what I'm doing. 

More often than not, I overreact and think a little too much. 

My mind has this tendency to come up with unappealing and paranoid ideas:

• What if we got used to this 30-minutes phone call per day, minimal Whatsapp and 4 hours a week face time routine, that he starts to take me for granted?
• What if another girl walks into his life, someone who is one point, two points or more nearer to his definition of a dream girl?
• What if we just slowly and naturally drift apart?

I don't think I have ever cared so much for any romantic relationship. 

He is so much like me, yet at the same time he is not like me at all. He is the personification of everything I wanted and dreamed to be. He is the epitome of my clandestine fantasies. He is that British gentleman who saunters out of my Mills & Boon Regency collection. 

I'm not living in denial. I'm not ignorant. I observe and I am aware of the many opportunities and beauties beyond the narrow window I made for myself. 

People often forget that if there are this many opportunities, there are also this many risks. As much beauty as there is in this world, there is as much ugliness. I have found mine and I plan to hold on to it for dear life for fear of losing it and never chancing upon something as ethereal as it again. 

I don't want and I'm not interested in what lies outside. Just Fiq will do. 

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