“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“How are you?”
“Fine, yourself?”
“Fine, too.”
“Great.”
“Yup.”
Pathetic, isn’t it? That’s my sorry attempt to strike up a conversation with the girl of my dreams but, like me, every attempt ends in failure.
I’m a loser. I always have been, always will. At my high school, I’m just another face in the hall. I can hardly hold a conversation with her, let alone tell her how I feel. With no talent, no skill, no looks, it’s no wonder my dream girl doesn’t even know who I am.

Her name’s Karen, I love everything about her. Like, the way she plays with her hair during class. Or how she bites her bottom lip when she’s thinking. The way her eyes light up when she’s excited… I love the sound of her voice, her luminescent green eyes, her luscious red lips…Karen is simply beautiful.

Screw this lovesick crap. I’m just gonna go for it.

“Karen, I was wondering…Do you wanna get a bite to eat or something after class?”
“Not with you.”
Ouch. But even as a bitch, she was still beautiful.

I still loved everything about her, especially in this instance. I loved, the way her chest rose and fell with each intake of breath. I loved the way she coughed and the little specks of blood that escaped her mouth with each cough. I loved the way her blood slowly trickled down her lips and onto her chest. I loved how her green eyes slowly lost their sheen, how she drifted off into eternal slumber.

Cleaning my knife, I looked into her empty green eyes and kissed her cold red lips.

Still, even in death, Karen was simply beautiful.