I'm such a stalker.

I can't believe I'm doing this,

looking at pictures of you...

But still...

You have a big nose - has anyone ever told you? The way it juts out in that weird, charismatic way. The way your eyes sparkle in their cute green-blue way.

I'm such a stalker.

I don't even know you.

You take lots of photos, and you're good at it. I roamed your MySpace page only to realize that I could never be as beautiful as you.

I'm such a stalker.

I don't even know your name.

You have this hair - the emo hair - the hair that's red (maybe brown?), and it falls in front of your face like most emo boy's hair does. I get the feeling here, while listening to Patrick Stump sing in my ear, that you'd be a horrible singer. Is that right?

I'm such a stalker.

I don't even know if you're real.

But if you are really real, then maybe you hate stalkers. Maybe you'll roam over to my own little space - my MySpace - and then maybe you'll comment me.

And it would be hideously irritating for the both of us.

But no, I'll exit your page now. I'm being too stalker-ish. Too creepy for all of us.

Your last picture was you with glasses on.

Did I tell you I'm partial to glasses?