This isn’t me. I am a prude. I am a twenty eight year old virgin, but i love your music, i love the way you perform your music, i love the way you look. i was at your concert the other night, and certain songs awoken this feeling in me, it was confirmed as i waited for you near the buses, just for a glimpse, just for an autograph. I realized, when i was merely a couple feet away from you how much better you look in person, as i stared at your stubble, and imagined how it would feel on my neck. and i stared at your hands and imagined them on my breasts. it’s been two days and i am utterly useless. i can do nothing but think of you, what i want to do to you, and what i want you to do to me.
i know i will never have you. but i can’t get you out of my head.