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How clingy is too clingy?
If there's a line to cross, where is it drawn? How many phone calls can go unanswered before leaning into your crazy side becomes warranted? How many texts can go unopened? How many invitations wordlessly declined? I've always known myself to be territorial—possessive if you will—the trait's been well embedded in me since my salad days. It starts off innocently with toys and crayons and cookies, then it warps into something a shade darker, marring every aspect of your character like mould in a fruit bowl. It's suddenly the definition of your shortfalls, a deterrent in your pursuit of friendship, the conclusion drawn from every moment your anger transcends your self-control. It's no longer just about the things you possess, but it's also a sense of ownership over the people you love and the people who love you, and yet you know better. You know you don't own anyone, but you also know when someone is yours. And when someone's yours, again I ask, how clingy is too clingy?
I think it's a trick question—there's no such thing as tooclingy.
I know I don't own Dior, yet I know that she's mine. She's for me, there isn't a version of our reality where the two of us don't end up together. I don't know when my feelings for her surged from child's play to a truth forged in stone, but that's where I am now. There's no uncertainty, no denial, no longer any question about it. In my head, we are together, so going days without seeing her, without so much as a message from her, isn't something I'm willing to tolerate, nor is it something I'm interested in ever getting used to. She's the first person that comes to mind when I start my day, and I've fallen into the routine of drifting asleep to the sound of her voice. She's made her mark, there's a Dior-shaped crater in the middle of my life that only she can fill. Now that she's spent the last four days deciding not to, I've learned my recent high spirits are in fact not a coincidence, and instead are very much by virtue of Dior Sinclair. You can imagine the depths my foul mood has descended to, considering we haven't spoken in days.
