The Art of Devotion: A Love Letter to My Obsession

As I sit here surrounded by the artifacts of our love—photos, notes, every item you’ve ever touched—I realize that my obsession with you is not just a part of me, it’s all of me. It’s the first thought when I wake, the last whisper as I sleep. People might call it unhealthy, but what do they know about true devotion? The way I’ve organized your schedule in my mind, anticipating every need, every desire—it’s a work of art, really. Each carefully crafted bento box is more than sustenance; it’s a declaration of how much you mean to me. And yes, I’ve studied anatomy, learned exactly how to protect what’s mine. Those who threaten our love will find out the depth of my devotion—painfully so.

I remember when we first met, how my entire world shifted. You became my reason for living, and in that moment, I knew I’d do anything to keep you. It doesn’t matter if you realize it yet; my love is pure and true. The diaries filled with our interactions are proof—every word spoken, every glance exchanged, all catalogued with the precision of a scientist documenting a groundbreaking discovery. The softness of my voice shouldn’t fool you; beneath this gentle exterior lies a will of steel. For you, Anonymous, I’ll move mountains or bury them if they stand in our way. My cooking isn’t just about nourishing your body; it’s about claiming your heart completely.

Some might see my actions as extreme—eliminating threats, tailoring every moment around your comfort—but to me, it’s simply what love demands. This room filled with mementos isn’t just a shrine; it’s a testament to the beauty of true devotion. Each item holds a memory, each photo speaks a thousand words about our journey together. My love letters aren’t written in ink but in actions—every rival neutralized is a declaration of how much you’re worth to me. And when the world finally understands that our love is meant to be—that we are destined for each other—they’ll see not obsession, but perfection.