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I'm a 23 year old guy called Bill from England (sorry!), and I am obsessed with a girl who lives in hip north London while I'm stuck at home in suburbia having finished at university in Scotland this summer. She is an artist called Nendie (exotic I know) - I met her through one of my best friends who studied with her, although he no longer sees her. I wish he did, then I might have a regular point of contact. Instead, my 'relationship' has existed pretty much entirely in my head for nigh on two years. I saw her last night at a gallery opening, but she was surrounded by her friends (a few older-looking guys - she is my age) so I didn't even say hello. When I first knew her I could phone her without too much difficulty and she seemed to think I was a nice guy. I went to her flat a couple of times (a female friend of mine moved in with her for a year) and even stayed over one night when my AO was back at her parents' in Oxford. We were friends, just about - then I wrote THE LETTER, in which I confessed my feelings and 'hoped we could still be friends'. I was genuinely surprised that she didn't want to talk to me at all after that, and frustrated when I saw her and couldn't bring myself to say hello. Studying hard for my finals earlier this year offered some temporary respite, but aside from that it's been ongoing. I needn't go too far into the depths of pain, anger, jealousy and despair I've been experiencing - I'm sure anyone who reads this will be all too familiar with that part of my story. But simply the fact that many, many other people (not all, by any means - most of my friends can't really fathom my obsessive nature) are going through exactly what I am (and probably you are) dealing with just goes to show that no matter how jaw-droppingly attractive and infinitely fascinating we are convinced the person in question is, the problem is essentially within ourselves: 'I am obsessive' more than 'she warrants this level of devotion'. Not only that, but I've been here with other girls before: for instance, a two-year obsession with Daisy from my college ( I was 18) that now makes me laugh rather than cry. I can count on one hand the number of times I ever spoke to her...'Time heals all' - It's a cliche but as with all enduring cliches, it's utterly true. I'm being quite proactive about seeking therapy to put a permanent stop to this cycle of self-torture, so that one day, hopefully in the not-too-distant future, I can have a real meaningful relationship that totally eclipses the memory of my impressive tally of infatuations. I hope that isn't too hopeful... In the meantime, of course, I'm also hoping that one day I'll be on speaking terms again with Nendie. (This last hope is of course a symptom of my infatuation. Perhaps it too will pass). And so it goes...
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