Our lives are defined by obsessions. They are always there, stippling the monotony of our lives with colours and motion.
They are there, an obsession or another; blotting out our consciousness, occupying the forefront of our realm of thoughts, at all times. A tight deadline you need to meet; the mindless game you feel the irrational need to play over and over; the train of tasks your objectivistic mind has set forth; the tormenting wait for a text message that you expect; your addiction demanding another dose of intoxicant; the face of the woman you can’t get out of your eyes—they vary in form and function, but they all manifest themselves as an inescapable, nagging presence; standing out boldly against everything else we try to indulge ourselves in. Remorseless attention-seekers, they are, begging at the loudest of their voices to be pampered, drowning out everything else.
They define, by their very existence, the sense and direction of our lives. Each day is shaped by the obsessions we choose to entertain, those we let live on, and those we try—often unsuccessfully—to stifle. Our obsessions make us who we are.