Obsession isn’t just for fans of football and The Cure. Obsession shares the same definition as a delusion, fascination and passion. The largest factor that shares those descriptors in my life is my obsession towards my work, my projects, my art. Every day I kill for the betterment of my repertoire of work. I jot down quotes in my Moleskine notebook as people give lectures. I fascinate myself with the movement of a shadow on a scrim behind a teacher in front of a projector. I watch videos upon videos of successful artists doing their work. All in order to garner inspiration and somehow absorb the artist’s talent out of the computer screen. All of this preparation molds the work as I sit and write out every inspiring piece of the day, making a beautiful poem or scene in a screenplay in a fashion that closely resembles pen masturbation. Obsessing over the little intricacies and fantasizing of what the project will ultimately end up being, and where it will take me. Ultimately this repeated obsession, happening every day, will fold into a life-changing project, one that I can only fantasize about now. That is the feeling I am striving for. It would be the ultimate orgasm, as I would be filled with joy, satisfaction and pleasure, but that word alone is extremely hard to justify the ultimate feeling that I kill everyday to achieve. This feeling would, hopefully, last longer than a few seconds, for the feeling would be felt every time the public views the amazing imagery that I will have created. I picture myself crying constantly in order to cope with this intense feeling of satisfaction, no, joy, no, happiness, not exactly. I would be all of those things, but the feeling is not something that one word would be able to describe. The obsession with the hard work, the need to be the best, the need to liberate, will ultimately end up with a feeling that will never be describable in human words within a short period.