Disclaimer: Not mine. Go ahead, rub it in...

AN: Wow, this one came out of no where. I have a million-'n'-one things to do today, but it attacked me quite viciously so I really had no choice but to stop and write it down... Incidentally, can you tell I'm a Hawthorne Heights fan? I hope ya'll enjoy, and I hope you let me know if you do (or don't!).

You ask me if I think you're beautiful, and I answer with complete honesty that I do. It's practically a daily routine, but I never fail to make a grand performance out of it... I compliment your shining tresses, undulating to the floor like a masterpiece of spun glass, shining in the sun and framing your lithe, graceful form. I praise your pale and flawless skin, concentrating especially on your incomparable face. Your eyes, I tell you, are the golden centerpieces of the finest ivory sculpture; your lips are rubies. And your voice! When you sing, you need no accompaniment, and the wind itself stops to listen.

I must be original in my wording to please you, and passionate in my delivery, but none of it really matters to me. You could chop off all that glorious hair and mutilate your perfect face beyond recognition, and it wouldn't make a difference in my mind. Go ahead - burn your flesh black, lose your limbs to a wasting disease, blight out your shining eyes, rip out your vocal cords - see if I even react. I could meet this disfigured wraith of a man eye to empty eye socket and still spout forth such extravagant eulogies.

Do not, however, take this as some soppy declaration that I only care for what is inside. When I look at you in worship, I am seeing neither the outside nor the inside. My eyes see into a so-called fourth dimension, if you will -

"The one who leads." "Katan." That will be your name.

- my eyes see only into the past.