I engage in subtle stalking. That's entirely different and perfectly socially acceptable.
I fell in love with her suddenly, deeply, in the most all-consuming way.
Most of the girls I've met since moving here have failed to ignite any modicum of enduring interest. Of course, I've dated; I'm seventeen years old and as horny as the next guy.
I'm not just the sum of how I look although that seems to be a popular opinion, and it infuriates me.
I'm following hot on her heels, smarting from her latest rebuttal, and I can't contain my temper as the flood of rejection washes over me, tossing me precariously close to the edge.
I am unbelievably nervous. It is most unlike me. This girl is really messing with my mojo.
It's the first instance where I believe that it might actually be wrong, the first time I feel like a bit of a creep.
While I AM sure of what I want, I'm equally unsure of how to attain it.
An intense longing builds inside me, and I fight the urge to propel myself forward and grab her into my arms.
Ariana strikes me as the type of girl who is attracted to authenticity.
I need to master the art of talking to her before I can even contemplate anything else.
I feel myself collapse inside as if the life force has been sucked out of me.
