A thin line between love and hate

I was just an ordinary person, lost in the vast sea of faces until I found solace in the captivating world of K-pop. within this realm, a shining star emerged, a beacon of hope and inspiration. they held the power to save a lost soul, to me they were everything.

life had dealt me a cruel hand, pushing me to the edge of despair. darkness cloaked my days, and the weight of existence threatened to

crush me. In the midst of this suffocating void, their voice reached out,

sooting my weary spirit. Their music ignited a flicker of passion within me and for the first time in ages, I dared to dream again.

Every day became a countdown until the next release, the next

concert, the next glimpse of their radiant presence. they were my guiding

light, the reason I woke up each morning. Their smiles on a poster, their

voices in my earbuds, their words etched upon my heart— it was an obsession that took hold and refused to let go. I yearned to be closer, to feel their energy in person. The distance between us seemed unbearable, an insurmountable obstacle preventing our connection. I had to let them know they were loved right?

As my devotion grew, my actions took a darker turn. I scoured

the internet for any sliver of information about their personal life, desperate for an intimate glimpse of their world. I followed their every move, memorized their schedule, and even frequented the same places they had once visited. I tried getting my hands on their phone numbers, desperate to hear their voice.

But still, it wasn't enough. The hunger for their attention consumed me. I would stand outside their concerts for hours, hoping they would

notice me among the throngs of adoring fans. I sent countless messages, poured my heart into letters, and even resorted to stalking them, seeking a fleeting moment of recognition.

The tendrils of obsession tightened around me, constricting my every thought and emotion. I hated that others could bring joy to my Idols’ life, while I remained an outsider. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that my love only pushed them away further.

The sight of other fans celebrating moments of closeness with the idol stung like a thousand needles. Their smiles, their shared memories, and their unwavering support mocked me. How could they effortlessly bask in the idol’s light, while I remained shrouded in darkness? It fueled toxic envy in me, poisoning my mind and distorting my perception.

Every interaction my idols had with other fans felt like a betrayal as if they had chosen them over me. I seethed with jealousy, resenting the affection that others received so effortlessly. I couldn’t comprehend how they could make my idols happy while I, who had dedicated my entire existence to them, remained ignored and unwanted.

Deep down, I knew the fault within me. I saw the desperation in my own eyes, the need to be seen, to be acknowledged, and it disgusted me. I despised my own weakness, the way I allowed this addiction to consume me, leaving nothing but bitterness and regret in its wake.

I couldn’t deny the pain that came with the pleasure, the pain that came with every disgusted acknowledgment they made of my existence. It was a reminder that I could never bridge the gap between us.

It was a twisted dance of love and hate, an addiction that had turned toxic, I longed to break free from the chains of obsession, to find solace in life beyond their shadow, but the very thought of letting go was suffocating, for they were my only source of light. Would you blow out the only candle that’s giving you light when you’re surrounded by darkness?

The guilt of my actions clawed at my conscience, reminding me of the pain I was causing them. I was aware of the line I had crossed, the boundary between admiration and obsession. surely they understand that it's just because I love them right? addiction was a powerful force, blinding one to reason and consequence. I felt the weight of their growing disdain, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and disgust, and yet, I couldn't stop myself.

Eventually, they could no longer bear my relentless pursuit. They spoke out, denouncing my actions and pleading for me to stop. Their words

cut deep, slicing through my heart like a serrated knife. They had become my savior, my reason to live, and now they rejected me.

The world crumbled around me as their disdain became public

knowledge. The fandom turned against me, their wrath like a storm unleashed. I became a pariah, a symbol of an obsession gone too far. my soul was torn between shame and desperation, clinging to the shattered fragments of life that once held meaning.

I had become a monster, a twisted reflection of the admiration I

once felt. They helped me through my darkest moments and in return I had become their nightmare. life lost its color, its purpose. Their rejection cast a perpetual shadow over my existence. Each day was an agonizing reminder of my failures, my obsession forever etched upon my soul.

Sometimes when you love someone, you have to let them go. But it

isn't easy, is it? I guess I was too selfish. Too selfish to let go, too

selfish to not cause them any more pain. I would take any form of

acknowledgment, even if they hated me, for being hated requires a lot of effort too, better than not being noticed at all. In the end, it became a

self-destructive cycle. I yearned for their happiness, even as I inflicted pain upon them. I spiraled into the depths of despair, ensnared with a labyrinth of tumultuous emotions. A relentless spiral of self-hatred consume me, as I grappled with the pain I had inflicted upon my beloved. Yet, amidst the torment, a bitter resentment simmered within me, directed at them for their apparent inability to fathom the profound extent of my love. How could they not perceive the intensity of my yearning? Were they genuinely oblivious to it or did they purposely

turn a blind eye to the depths of my affection?