2002-10-02 - 1:15 a.m.

Perhaps I move too quickly...or perhaps I don't move at all....I wrote this in class today....true, all of it, true.....after meeting the most beautiful girl ever.......

You be the judge...

Next to me sits a girl whom I had never spoken to until today. Her long, sheen-filled hair, with a matte look of fluffy softness, hangs down, shielding her face from mine. She seems concentrated on her work, and I can picture her look of determination in my mind.

She finish her exam now, no doubt with marks far exceeding my own. She sits back, reclining in a serious but relaxed stance, looking straight ahead at the English professor as he begins to discuss our reading from the prior week. She watches with the softest eyes, the color of the sky in the morning proceeding a beautiful, cloudless day. The light blue so compliments her soft, flawless skin, with its pinkish tint and natural blush to her cheeks. Her nose is in almost the perfect shape, small and pointed, ending in a spherical slope, caving inwards and down, not breaking its beautiful harmony until it changes its color to begin lips. Her lips are a nature-made pale pink, with a hint of wine-like mauve. Her face, as she described with a smile upon those luscious lips, still has yet to lose its innocent, round "baby fat" cheeks.

Her eyebrows were once plucked, but are due for a repeat, as there are stray hairs growing in under the sweet little arch of the dark-chocolate-coloured brow.

Arms of the angel are crossed still, one hand, with manicured nails and French tips that were given at birth, resting next to her small, apple-sized breast. I feel an urge to be able to replace her hand with my own, curve it upwards, and gently caress her soft breast. I can almost imagine the feel of her breast beneath my hand, the little bit of fat soft yet firm beneath my palm, and the skin like feathers of a dove.

Her eyes are what still catch me most. The eyes, so beautiful, so innocent and sweet, yet aged in that it looks like she has seen too much in her twenty years. They're lined with gorgeous, naturally thick, long lashes that curl in the fashion of a model, whose lashes have been teased for hours. But this beauty doesn't need the care of a professional cosmetologist to have any aspect of her face look beautiful.

Ah, she smiles! Her eyes light up like the glow of a Christmas bulb, each one tiny, but spreading joy and happiness with its endless glimmer. They're so beautiful, and I wonder what they feel when they see me. Disgust? Amusement? Perhaps she feels nothing, and maybe she doesn't even really feel me looking at her at all. I have to wonder if she notices my glances, if she cares at all - what she feels when I look into those baby blue eyes. Does she even notice me at all? I don't even know if I want her to or not - I'd feel horrible if she knew I was looking, thought I was spying.

I can't help but notice the blue velvet sweatsuit she wears every Tuesday. It's got a velour look to it, and must be soft as her skin appears to be. A deep, navy blue, perhaps related to a shade of midnight, and a blue shirt visible from beneath the bottom of the hooded top.

Her ears, at the tops of the round-boned jaw, are adorned with earrings with the look of diamonds. From the size of the stones, perhaps one-third of an inch in diameter, I doubt they are really diamonds. Austrian crystal, perhaps.

But we're in our second half of class...I want so badly to touch her, to feel her velvet outfit, to touch her skin. It'll probably never happen, but I can always dream.

She's beautiful. I wish she were mind. I'd put a smile upon her face every day, and make her feel loved.

Perhaps I can begin as friends. I'll give her my Email address...

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