Thursday, 22 March 2001

The Unbearable Agony Of Being Lost In Love: A Monologue on Obsession

Written by  Naomi Zelwer

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Chelsea is 14 years old and totally "in love" with a guy in her class. But is she obsessed?

I think I must be totally, completely in love. It's no crush this time. It's a feeling that burns me up. Whenever I see him, I feel like a volcano is erupting inside and hot, molten lava is going to pour out of my mouth and ears and then everyone will see. And everyone will know. And he will know.

We're studying Romeo and Juliet at school. I can so completely relate to their love and their tragedy. I asked my friends at school to call me "Jules" as a nickname. I didn't tell them why. They'd never understand.

The other girls talk about the guys they have crushes on and they ask me who I'm interested in. I always say that teenage boys are just sooooo immature and that I can't find a single one who I like. I don't know whether that makes them think I'm cool or nuts.

Because they all have crushes on someone or other. And they giggle over them at slumber parties and in the hallway at school. And talk about their butts. They're just so childish. I would never degrade him by speaking or laughing about him like that. What I feel for him is too serious.

Sometimes I lock my bedroom door and sit at my desk, writing his name over and over. It makes me feel close to him. I can write his name as automatically as I write my own. I want to say his name. I want to speak to him and call him by it. It would be so...intimate.

Every song I hear makes me think of him. It's almost unbearable. I listen to "Take A Chance on Me" by ABBA over and over, and I cry each time. Also when I hear "Stand By Me" by Ben E. King. And "Iris" by Goo Goo Dolls. I just want to beg him to look at me. To talk to me. To want me.

I looked up his phone number in the directory. I know his number by heart. Once I called it, hoping that he would pick up so that I could hear his voice. I've never heard his voice. I would have just made up a name and asked for that person. He would have said I had the wrong number. I would have said sorry for bothering you, but in a bright and chirpy, yet still cool and mature tone of voice.

Maybe he would have been intrigued by my voice and want to talk to me. Even if not, it would still have been a conversation. But when I called, a woman answered, and I put the phone down quickly. I was so totally depressed. I felt like he had rejected me by not picking up. But then again, he didn't know it was me.

I don't know what to do. This can't be good for me, but I'm so totally into him, I can barely breathe sometimes. I think I need to come up for air, but I don't know how.

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Last modified on Friday, 29 April 2011 14:22
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Naomi Zelwer

Naomi Zelwer has a BA in Psychology and Sociology and has had further training in counseling, specializing in issues specific to adolescents. She lives with her husband and daughter.

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