I always knew Andy didn’t love me and probably never would. I had done everything I could think of to try and get him to notice me. To say I became obsessed was an understatement. I knew his phone number, his favorite foods, where he went shopping. Everything. I knew it wasn’t normal to know this much about him, but I couldn’t help myself. The age of social media led me to love him a little too much. Every morning I told myself that today was going to be the day I was going to delete all of my accounts, but I have yet to do it.
I knew I was being obsessive, but there was a history of addiction in my family and this was just my addiction that I couldn’t pull my way out. I technically wasn’t hurting myself or anyone else. Everything came to head when I accidentally dialed his phone number when I was actively telling myself not to follow him around. I didn’t even realize my mistake until the police showed up at my door with a restraining order and a verbal warning about not contacting him, etc. Which was fine since other than following him, I didn’t do anything else they warned me about. The last thing I remember before waking up in jail was watching him angrily walk toward me. He was approaching me, not the other way around. I didn’t have to tell the police I was wearing his favorite shirt.