October 11th 09:36

I see him. I can almost feel the heat from his body, but I'm frozen in my spot. Too scared to be near him, but too intrigued to sit still. The way his bangs fall into his eyes is so cute and the way he quietly sips his iced americano. I shouldn't listen to him order his coffee anymore. I think that's stalking. What's the difference between stalking and a crush, anyway?

Oh God, he's moving. He always stays here until at least ten o'clock. Holy shit, he's walking towards me. Maybe if I bury my head into this journal he'll walk away. Oh no. He's sitting next to me. I can feel the blood rushing to my face. What if he notices? What if he says something? I knew I should've stopped staring. His eyes look less empty, happy almost.

I wonder if he thinks of me the way I think of him. Probably not. I've got a chubby face and equally chubby, short fingers. He's probably not even interested. He's probably straight. Or in a relationship. Then again, it'd have to be a pretty miserable relationship for him to look so pensive and sorrowful.

I just want to make his eyes light up with joy and see his probably beautiful smile. I just want to hold his hand and make all the sad go away. The thought of seeing him finally smile makes me hopeful. I should probably say something. I've just been sitting here writing th