Oh, sweet stranger

I sometimes wonder how creepy I am. There are people on campus I see and am intrigued by. Rather than mustering some confidence to talk to them, I stumble upon someone's facebook, and then surf from profile to profile, scouring for interesting information, for a blog link, for photos they've taken. Then, I let myself get to know this stranger and sometimes contemplate about his or her life.

This might be because I'd prefer think about someone else's life than my own. Mine's a mess, one I don't want to deal with.

A lot of people are into this formspring thing, where people can anonymously (or not anonymously, if they choose) ask questions and the person will answer them and post them to his or her page. I was reading the questions/answers on the pages of some of my friends. Someone asked, "Who is the most beautiful person you know?" She answered with my name. I was truly touched. And just so surprised. Because, really? I don't feel so beautiful lately, inside or out. I didn't think anyone else could see me that way, either.

I saw him yesterday. We had coffee. I still don't know how I feel about it. It felt like it always does. I bit of nervousness, but still at home. Comfortable. Even though it's been a few months since we last saw one another. And a few years since our last kiss. He told me his girlfriend was upset that he was seeing me. Why would he tell me that? The things he says, sometimes. "You've got quite a set of eyes." No one else can understand the depth of that statement, and that only makes it worse. It's not a longing I feel. It's almost a dread. The dread of knowing it will always be him, despite my best efforts. Despite the fact that I'd like to have the choice of someone else. It always comes back to him, and that terrifies me. Ultimately, because I wonder if there are other me's. If I've just diluted myself into thinking I'm the only one he talks to this way, that these things only mean so much to me, they are just his passing comments. It would be so sad and pathetic. I'm not waiting around, but it always looms.