What happened last night?

I fought within my consciousness. Or any of the other nights that are inextinguishable becoming less and less coherent. I swear this OCD crap pulsing through, is nothing but a nuisance, shifting my weight to my left side, giving my right side, a chance become un-numb; to which the tingling had now paralyzed my derriere.

Come on you dick-lick. Start the lecture already. What is he waiting for?

Drifting with excruciating boredom, as a wafting to the climax beat at my chest. I could've stood up and heaped a shout from the impatience fleeing from my fingers right down to the tips of my toes. I hated waiting; never have. I have the patience of a Jagger (the crossbreeding of a male Jaguar and a female Tiger) in heat. Funny, I never remember thinking of the word Jagger till now. Odd how the mind can construe such capabilities at the randomness times; as so with that later of the two.

Heat – that word flared an unintentional response to my interiors. A growl or a hurdling sound of hunger prodded at my stomach lining. How was I hungry at all, was beyond me? I had even not eaten half an hour ago.

My body felt as though it ached at the precognition.

Get this heat sated now – do it now! Now! Now!

I closed my eyes to give the presumption that I was at least willing to remain calm. I got lost, like any other time, in the chaos that is called the strongest muscle. My head tilting back in a sudden throbbing; an insatiable gnaw traveling off with a sizzling charge down my chest cavity, piercing along the occasional sensitivity of my sides, patting the slight curl of my pelvic bone and finally choke-holding the growing girth, tightening within the Izod jeans.

There was no denying the overtly zealous arousal that had bolted up so quickly; there was a sudden smell of sweet fruit and a creamy wood combusting together all at once; filling my lungs with as much of the sensational aroma that could be taken at once, I woofed an exaggerated exhale.

Just as quickly as I lowered my head back down to normal position, the room pulsated from white... to grey... to black. Head rush.

I instinctively shook it off. Resuming my examination of the oddness of last several nights.

Think of anything else – what was last night about; this whore-headed-red thinking he can teach; the hatred of having the wrong shoestrings with these new shoes. A...ny...thing...!

Last nights' questionable endeavors it seems to have hit the mark, as the merciless bulging reached maximum restraints and had lessened with every carefully distractive thought forced to replace (the only the word to correctly define the feeling) the heat.

Why was it such a chore to wobble through the prior night? This memory sack hasn't reached extreme memory loss – just of yet.

Such an unnecessary blur; I can barely remember if I had even made it home after that initiation party thrown by that ridiculously full-of-them-alpha-narcissists beta house. I don't hold a pure hatred for those guys, just – the fact that I pledged not to join up with their collection of heathens, is how one – such as a I – became a pariah. My family was appallingly proud.

I've never experienced such haziness in my life. And I most definitely hate not being in control of my actions, let alone not being able to properly think accurately.

What was that ridiculous off-wiz-tasting red punch? I know it was over-kill with the additives. Which I doubt anyone couldn't recognize just from the introduction of the smell radiating from the liquid as your mouth tipped the rim. I'm not as naïve, as some would make me out to be, or at least not to the extent as a number of my peers can play to that card so well, but... hey... Who am I to judge?

Stretching my mind to wrap around any memory. The color of the pool would suffice at this moment – it was like a sparkling teal. Crap-hola! I can picture that singular detail perfectly, but nothing comes to mind after that. I glanced to my left hand, instantly wondering why I had dirt lined underneath my fingernails. I can rule out the fact that I may have not showered. Such a dirty boy I feel I am. I retracted my plumb fingers back to the palm. No one needs to see I have neglected good hygiene.

My attention rapidly swung to the open classroom door; as well as the instant aroma licking the rooms cool air.

His quick gap flickering from the desk to me as he noticed just as soon as I had. Like he had been waiting on them to approach the classroom door. But, why? Cunning as he may be perceived by just about everyone who comes into contact with him; he's Not. That. Clever.

Does one with such cleverness mindlessly forget to do a standard fly-check before walking on stage to a whole student body; or with this cleverness choose to not wear anything under? Hmm, I'd rather think not.

My flaring eyes floated away from the torturer of my past to the tender distraction facing the room.

I'm intrigued in an instance. I don't know her from Eden, she could be one of several queens of Troodos Mountains, but, there's equally beautifulness all around. It's a completely unbiased, and different feeling. I am not a Romeo, nor do I fake to be one someday. I'm simply saying my heart promptly rose to a roar for the brunette standing there all innocently.

I find her so striking. The struggle induced motions she takes, are majestic. The stumbled effort up the first inclined step to an empty seat, just one row above her wavy-haired friend and her friends' dubious boyfriend. I wonder if they're even aware of him. Ehh, not my place.

She just walked in, (cutely, awkward enough) but there she is. There's Dannity. That name ricocheted through my brain waves as like a raging inferno.

Two weeks of class and suddenly now I recall her name from the roster.

How can she find me through this crowd of other horn-hounds stalking around; especially since he has a mission of seduction written all over his face for her (for the both of them, or all three; who knows?) now. Why can't he just go die somewhere and do the world a huge – HUGE - favor!

I released a deep breath; strong-arming my insides to let it go, along with the fire I cradled inside my chest – so close to me as child to its mother's womb.

I wonder if the brunette beauty could possibly be the one to accept me. To give me hope that there is more to life than dread and regurgitating the past over and over like a never-ending, agony induced, carousal ride.

Hopeless romance has been a major – major, downfall of mine; ironically, since I've never truly been in love. Mistakenly, I have believed I was, but lust is such an easy form of love; getting love confused with desire is consequently easy to the untrained heart.

How could I get to speak to her? Or, better yet, get a chance to be near her – without having the façade of potential stalker.