Completely Devoted

It’s okay, you don’t have to love me. I can admire you from afar. I can sneak into your home, install hidden cameras, and watch you while you sleep from the comfort of my mom’s basement.

You don’t have to know I exist. I can go through your trash while you're at work in search of your toe nail clippings. I am sculpting a life size, anatomically correct replica of you from those sensual, rose scented toe clippings.

You don’t have to worry. I’m not dangerous. I take my Latuda, Zyprexa, Seroquel, Risperdal, and Geodon even when the voices aren’t telling me to cover myself in the left over food that you throw out. I am all about health, both physical and mental. Just ask anyone. The past objects of my affection only had to file one order of protection for me to get the hint. Only a wacko would need more than one restraining order to know it was time to move on.

Please don’t password protect your computer, phone, and Tinder account. I need to access your seductive digital footprint. I want to protect you from those who don’t love you enough to, try to change their blood type to match yours. In the event you ever need a transfusion I can be the donor. That way I can truly become one with you. A part of me will flow through your heart, send oxygen to your mommy parts, and make sure that your intestines can expel the waste from your perfect body.

It’s okay, you don’t have to love me. Just being close to you is enough. I’ve already moved my mattress to the crawl space directly beneath your bed. Snug under the floor, beneath your slumbering body, I’ll be able to hear you sigh and giggle in your sleep. On those nights that you have one too many glasses of wine and sleep the sleep of the intoxicated, I may even wipe the drool off your tipsy, dreaming face. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. It works as a wonderful adhesive for your toe nail sculpture.