She is everything I want. She is everything I see. She is everything I taste. She is everything. But I cannot have her, I cannot give in to her. She knows what I want. Or does she? Maybe she is perhaps really just young and naïve. Maybe it is really just playful games to her…. But they’re not the type of games I want to play….. stop…. I cannot think like this, I cannot have these thoughts anymore! She doesn’t want me, I do not want her. But, as I gaze at her through a teacher’s eyes, I do not see a student, and this is the problem. This is my illness. She is my illness. My torture. She knows this…doesn’t she?
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