I want you. I so want you.

I love those hands. Those hands are so beautiful. So worked up. Sexy? Yes, though I'm not fully feeling it right now. Does not diminish the beauty though.

Perfect face. Beautiful, even. So childish, so childlike. Yet also mature. So curious. Determined. Precious, precious smile. Not a very photogenic smile, or smile face, but it looks so childlike. So carefree.

Good dresser, albeit rather old -fashioned. I still feel awkward over that polo shirt. That was hot. Would I want you in it? Oh I would. I so would, to the point that I'm not sure I want to see you undressed. I don't want to trespass that point, as it would make me lose all respect for you. That'd be hard to fake. Still, the polo was hot.

Personality... I can't fill this in, besides the feeling that you're rather secretive. Quite awkward too, I think, which is really cute. You have mystery because you don't talk about your personal life. But you talk a lot when you feel like it. You're a sudden burst of energy when you're excited. And you talk lots with her. You probably only talk lots to people you're close to. Which... I'm not. Which will be hard to build up.

I think, maybe you feel contented over your life already. Tired, even. Maybe you're happy with your family already. I mean, you seem close to your siblings. I feel a little jealous actually. Over your closeness with her, and probably with your sibs. I wish I was also in that stage, in that circle. But it's hard to initiate. I don't know how to.

I want to be able to talk with you. Chat, or share stories, or joke around, or share gossip. Haha. That kind of close. That kind of comfort. I want to see you beyond your work desk. I want to see who you are, what you are. I want to see depth. I want to build a character of you in my head. It's scary to think that you could be who you are right now, and nothing else. I don't think, or want to think, of you as one of those rich kids, who know nothing but work and money and travel and their own little nucleus. I hope you're much deeper than that.

I treasure those short times that you ask me things about work. It makes me feel like, even for a short while, you needed my assistance. I might not answer well. I mean, I'm usually just derp when you talk to me. I get disappointed with myself too. Very much so.

I wish I could fully love you. Fully adore you. Help you stay and prod on. Keep you happy and energized. Keep you laughing. I wish I could be there for you when you need someone. I wish I could be of assistance to you. Serve you when you need serving. Give you nice treats to motivate you. Or just simply to make you smile. I wish I could share stories with you. I wish I could tell you how heartsick I am right now. And maybe you would laugh at me, find me silly and childish, but hug me anyway.

I just want to cry at how frustrated and stunted and shy and useless I am. And to you.

This feels like talking to a concrete wall.