I Think About You Ronnie Anne

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       Do people change? Can people change? Have people changed?

       The answer to all three questions is precisely: No. You can quickly observe the patterns in someone's behavior upon meeting them. One core example is identifying someone's nervous tics. Everybody, without fail, has a telltale sign that they're nervous. It occurs in all of us, and the next time you feel nervous, try inspecting yourself to find your own nervous tics. Whether it be tapping your finger, touching your face, clearing your throat, rocking your body, blinking incessantly, wrinkling your nose, shrugging your shoulders... all of these are common tics within many people. If you find someone else's recurring tic, you just may be able to read when they're nervous about something. Today we watch through my eyes like camera lenses, playing a live National Geographic documentary on the beautiful animal unique to Michigan: Ronnie Anne.

       She really is a mystical girl. She almost seems too perfect to be on this plane of existence, standing on the same disgusting subway trains that we all occupy day to day. How does she withstand the horribly dirty nature of our world? She is of such a high class, in both looks and personality, that she transcends me, and everyone else who stands the rest of time; past, present, and future. She belongs with the pantheon of Greek gods that all represent the natures of this world. Aphrodite, the god of love and beauty, could allow her place to be taken by Ronnie Anne. Since you do not see her, I must describe her to you. She has a tanner shade of skin, a shade that reflects the sun like the surface of honey. She has long black hair that flows like the sky in Vincent van Gogh's Starry Night, which she ties into a ponytail behind her head. She usually wears a jacket or a hoodie that is strong enough to contain her wild and complex emotions. She always dons a pair of sneakers as well, which she's said to her friend "have the power to make me run twice as fast," though I doubt it. She's a true tomboy, and everybody is charmed by her dangerous and foolhardy spirit. I have contracted a disease, however, and this is not your usual "sickly" type of disease. No, it's a romantic disease.

       You see, when you fall in love—which we all eventually do—you have a new sense within you that is born. For men, it's the desire to protect, and the hunger for affection. So is the disease that I have caught. I've fallen for a girl which I long for, but I know will never reciprocate my feelings. I'm not her type. It's as simple as that. Do not feel sad for me, friends, for I have already found a way to cope with my broken heart. I watch Ronnie Anne through her house's windows. Have you ever heard the French expression "voir la vie en rose"? To translate it for you, it means "to see the world through rose-tinted glasses." That is to say, that someone is seeing the world in a naively optimistic way. Perhaps I have on my own pair of rose-glasses, because right now I see the future, and Ronnie Anne is sitting beside me on a bench that faces a large pond. A pond that reflects the moon... a symbol of romanticism, feminism, and possible remnants of ambition? I feel all of those metaphorical symbolisms shine down on me in the form of the moon's white shine, and I can't help but feel the cold night caress me all over; except for my hand which is warm and protected in the grasp of another hand—Ronnie Anne's hand.

       What's that? Oh? You're like everyone else in the world? Hah. You aren't unique. God, you probably eat food and breathe just like everyone else does. Ahem, my point is that you anger me because you are so predictable. How, do you ask? When I said that I watch Ronnie Anne through her windows earlier, you judged me just then, didn't you? You think I'm an insane debaucher, don't you? That's why I stay alone and avoid the sight of others. People can't just live nowadays, they have to worry about what others will think about them. It's so sad that everybody has to hold such judgmental minds, and you are no different! You can't even argue it, because you don't understand me! That's okay, I didn't expect you to. You may follow my adventure if you wish, but if I were to guess, I'd say you no longer want to know about me. You think of me as disturbing and so you will go on about your life and forget me quickly, and I'm okay with that. I will be alone. I always have been alone. I am alone.

       The human mind is constructed with convoluted physiological parts. We are all to some degree driven by emotion, however, some of us have more control over our emotions than others. Emotions are atavistic and have always been around since day one of the human population. They help us survive, and ultimately, you can call every emotion a type of reaction. To that, I ask, what is your reaction to a stalker? Are you disgusted? Are you angry? Are you... scared? Oh my lord, that's not it, is it? Are you afraid of me and what I might do to Ronnie Anne? If you are, I will assure you right now: I am not going to hurt her and I am not in any way going to do anything debauched. Do not think that of me, because there are a set of standards that separate a stalker from a predator. Are you seeing what I'm saying? Maybe you've calmed down now and your petty little judgements have died fighting their spiteful battle. If you do find yourself to be calmed down and ready to proceed with an open mind, then I invite you to join me. I will record every significant event relating to Ronnie Anne and my fascination with her, and you may ride along, enjoying every second that comes closer to our idyllic romance that this story will of course achieve in the end. A happy ending is due for me now, don't you think? For a guy that loves a girl this much? So much that he watches over her? It's a funny thing, my feelings. I want to protect her and yet nobody is after her.

       Possibly, there is a deep uncontrollable craving within me, sending love pangs that ache through my feeble body. Maybe that's just it. Maybe I need to protect her from myself. Hah! Just a thought—a very, very illogical thought. Can you love someone too much? Can you want someone too much? Hah. I think I'll watch her tomorrow. That's a convenient time for me. I'll also pray before bed. God likes listening to my sins.