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. 


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