It must be fiction

He's pursuing me with a fierceness that I cannot describe. The consistency is astonishing, the effort unparalleled. He remembers everything I tell him and then some. Every time I turn around he's there, somehow. First thing in the morning and the last thing at night, "Like it should be" he says. Is that how it should be? I won't have him and he can't have me, but this works, whatever it is. I'm struggling to explain all of these complicated things to my heart, who loves so openly.