Worlds without stories, are where the best storytellers are born.

It didn't start as an obsession. Just something that gave me a natural high, enabling me to soar to the skies above. People call me a curious soul, and I don't blame them for it. My stories aren't like the ones told to children. Shared when tucking them in under blankets and dimming the lights.

I stumbled upon storytelling by chance. Realizing that behind every story, there was a storyteller. Someone who dared to explore every imaginable thought. A person willing to risk unleashing their creativity. Hoping it wouldn't lead them down a path of darkness and sorrow. But there are still things I don’t understand. Like, what's wrong with darkness? Why do we conceal our sorrows? So I began to explore my curiosities.

It began during my free time, where my cons explored every avenue, delving into the foggy depths of possibilities. I would scribble down simple poems on the back of an assignment or venture into the uncharted territories of the mind. And while others complained, when it came to writing, I excelled. And a need started to settle.

Mesmerized by the power of storytelling, I became entranced. Without a second thought, I dove deeper into its intricacies, captivated by its ability to transport and enchant. The pictures that could be created. Possibilities and promises wielded by a mere pen was beyond imagination. It was making things much harder.

I couldn't focus on anything else. The flood of imagery always vying to be expressed. Countless endings to explore. Mind always buzzing with scenes and plot twists, begging to be expressed. I would dive into my own thoughts, going deeper than anyone had dared.

Gradually, obsession took hold. I strived to perfect every word that flowed from my mind to my lips. Only when it was pure and flawless would I be content.

I soon became consumed by the desire to weave narratives that could captivate hearts and minds.

And I still am.

I plunged deep into this rabbit hole.

But can you blame me for longing for stories that keep you up at night?

Lost in the realm of imagination, reality blurred, and storytelling became not just a passion but a relentless pursuit that defined my very existence.

Yet some call me insane, claiming my thoughts are too dark or my emotions too intense.

"You've gone too far!" they all exclaim, pushing me back as they try to shut off my mind.

"Obsessed" is how they like to label me, but I wouldn't quite describe myself that way. It's more than an obsession now. It's something greater. Something people fear. Some are obsessed with happy things like flowers or smiles. But joy isn't what I think of when it comes to addiction.

So stop calling me obsessed because obsessions fade. I can't help but fall in love with the stories that keep you awake at night.

I'm simply...

Addicted.