/lit/ - Literature

>>15213480
First off, this is going to be a semi-rant, I might end saying things I do not mean, but I'm getting them off my chest. Don't hate me. It's going to be personal, you will probably laugh at me, you will probably think I am crazy, I probably am, and I know this. Ok. Here we go.

What the hell. Why do I love this girl so much? Why does my heart skip a beat when I see her face? Why do cry when I watch her in videos? Why do I collate folders full of pictures and spend countless hours pining over this women I've never even met? Why I do I feel like I know her! Why do I keep coming back for more? I feel like it's unnatural. To be so attached to this stranger. I don't know her. She doesn't know me. She will never know me. But I know she's beautiful, inside and out. I know she's humble and funny and down to earth, and even if it's only an image, it might as well be the truth because she does it so well. She will never know me. SHE HAS NO IDEA I EXIST. I could go to North Korea, and could go on a tour,but she would never meet me. I get DEPRESSED over this - I say this at the risk of trivializing mental illness. I went for weeks in pure apathy, unmotivated, really really sad. It was so weird, because I would look at her images and I would feel euphoric on the outside, but inside I was crying...

What makes it even worse is that I KNOW I'm not alone. So many anons feel like this. Which is what makes it so frustrating. I'm not different. A thousand anons would cry at the feet of this beauty, and I realise I'm pretty pathetic. Even though I'm an 'adult' I'm so bloody immature. I'm nowhere near as extreme as some anons, I keep my scrawny white male face composed when in public, but god damn the feelings are there. IT'S ONLY KIM JONG UN'S SISTER. SHE IS ONLY A HIGH RANKING MEMBER OF THE NORTH KOREAN WORKERS PARTY. There are scientists and doctors out there, who are saving lives, and I choose to dedicate my time to pining after a dictator's sister. Sure, she's talented, but it's only politics. It's manufactured. I'm being used. Every single move she makes is perfectly crafted to appeal to certain parts of my brain that keep me obeying the party. I suppose I can take solace in the fact that at least I'm not delusional. But you know what makes this so bad, you know what makes this hurt so much? I don't regret any of it. I. Love. Her.

And just by simply typing this out, I have come to a little closure; she will never know me. And that's ok. Because I'm watching this beautiful girl grow. Watching her mature. Listening, cheering, dreaming... she will never know me, but I have known her. and that's good enough for me.