Plagued by an infectious feeling of love, I search for her—yearn for her touch, her acceptance. Scanning the room left and right, trying to find something to distract my mind from the excessive beauty she produced, illuminating the room as it shined from her pale skin. If only I could muster the courage to speak to her, to tell her that her allure is astounding and all encompassing, to kiss her slowly and hold her against me. Who am I to suggest that I would ever in the thousands of days of my existence speak to a woman so complete?

I could tell she was affected by some sort of substance and she wore it upon her face. This though did not take away from her profound attractiveness; incidentally, this flaw heightened her appeal, making her all the more attractive to me, personally.

The **** was getting to me now. Eyes were drooping. Head was pounding to the beat of the music, sending me off into missions in my own brain. Though this did not subdue me from her. I looked closer and harder, trying to give my attention to her; she deserved every last second of it. Did she know I was watching her every movement? The way her eyes fluttered from scene to scene in disbelief, or the way she moved her hair from the crest of her forehead.

No. She most certainly did not, and I planned to keep it that way.

How could I be so disrespectful to look at her in such a way? She was happy as she was. She didn’t need someone like me swooping in and causing an altercation in her life. But was she really happy though? Could I make her happier? I know I could. I know I could be the stars to her sky. I could shine brighter than whatever she already had. I could guide her to sublimity.

No, stop. I had to become prisoner to silent admiration. No interference with her personal life, instead I would have to fantasize from the realm of my imagination. A life where she finds me equally as interesting as I find her. The worst part of this all is that this could be reality, but I am too governed by my own sense of inherent morality to find out.

All these thoughts flow through my head in these few seconds I am looking at her—splashing over and over like a busted dam. I try to rebuild the dam in my mind, filling the holes with mental concrete blocks. The water continues to bust through, the stream becoming stronger than it once was. I am overwhelmed by these feelings that they drown my consciousness. I have to stop; I have to push them as far away as I can.

Leave her only as a remnant to my memories.