I am overly attached. I am overly attached to you because I like you too much. Every little bit of information I learn about you is carefully shelved into my memories that I recall during moments of boredom or anxiety to ruminate, again.
I love all your theories and I marvel at all the people who made all the theories about you. I spend endless hours searching for information on you online, making careful notes so that if you were to surprise-test me one day, I am going to come off as incredibly and perhaps creepily knowledgable about you.
I know I started developing interest in you since 2013 and I knew you were the right choice since then. Since that day, my passion for you grew.
But you disappoint me sometimes.
Some of the things I learn about you makes no sense. Sometimes you play hard to get. Sometimes you expect me to understand you without explaining yourself clearly. I ask the gurus and they make me climb mountains to just understand you better.
I have high hopes and high expectations for you because I like you best. It wasn’t fair to treat you this way but I invest in you most. All my money, all my time, and my whole future.
You cannot disappoint me.
But this year you are full of disappointments. You are draining me and driving me mad.
While I love you Literature, Year2 Sem2 Lit modules with their numerous theorists and theories (OH HAIL Spivak! Hello Giddens! Lo and behold Bhabha!) have made you a very questionable subject of my interest.
What’s worse: South Asian Literature Test on Valentine’s Day.
Test of knowledge? Nah, test of my love for literature.