You won't read this, but I think you're beautiful.

You work at the library. You have jaw length blonde surfer-hair, and a labret piercing. and glasses. And jesusfuck, you're beautiful. And shy - which only makes you more beautiful. And I know that 'beautiful' isn't a very masculine word but it fits you perfectly.

You make me want to hang out at the library more often, but I don't dare to because I'm so afraid that sooner or later you'll notice me gazing at you from across the room where I'm pretending to be working and you'll blush and run away.

Sometimes I see you around town, and yeah, I did once follow you all the way to the train station but it's okay, I managed to snap myself out of it before I chased you in there and made a mental note of which train you were catching. You always look like you're thinking about something. I like to think that you're mentally narrating your life - or your fantasy life - the way i constantly do too.

I want to talk to you. That's all it is. I mean, yeah, ultimately, I guess I want to date you and marry you and have kids with you - or at least have a damn good shag - but essentially, I want to talk with you and find out if you're as beautiful inside as you are on the outside. I want to ask you what you like to read, and watch, and listen to. I want to hear what your laugh sounds like.

But as you're too shy to deal with people at the helpdesk at the library, and shuffle off to do computerwork in the office at the back whenever one comes up; and as I'm much much too lacking in confidence to ever walk up to you and say hi. I can't even think of any smooth way to start a conversation when I have time to think, let alone doing it on the spur of the moment with you right there.

So I guess - unless we turn out to have a mutual interest or acquaintance, I'll just continue to keep an eye out for you, and continue to think you're beautiful - from a distance.