Jaded. My eyes chase their reflection. They become lost within each other, and I wander down the endless tunnel of my eyes. There is light at the end of this tunnel perhaps, but I will never reach it. The ground and the sky are gray, but the walls are painted with pictures of you. There is no sun in the dark world of my eyes, but the paintings of you give it warmth. I can see you now, but I can walk no further. I beg for you, but you turn away.
Helpless. I have stepped outside of my mind and into reality; it slaps me across the face. Alone in a room filled with people I watch you, I hear you. Like a goddess bathing in a river of silk, you look in my direction - but our eyes do not connect - yours go by me, identifying me as the desperate filth that I am. You pass me in the corridor, I breathe deeply, tasting your sweet smell. All of the flowers in the world could not be so satisfying. Like the song of a thousand birds on a spring morning, your voice awakens something within me, but this pleasure I intake only for the short moment you pass. Your beauty is such that I would wish to be blind if I could not see you, and your song such that I could breathe it instead of air. You leave, and I have had my fix for now.
Pathetic. You consume all of my thoughts; I am infatuated with you. I enact conversations with you, asking you out for dinner, pretending to be interesting, witty, charming, amusing. I have spent so many days and nights thinking of you, the... [continues]
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