It's me, Ibrihiam Robert Rosenkrantz.  I'm the kid who wrote about my girlfriend, Meghan Cowles, the girl I've had a crush on since I first laid eyes on her last year, when I was a eighth grader in middle school.

It's been a year.  Surprisingly enough, Meghan and I are still together.  She's as smart as ever, not to mention, as beautiful as a goddess.  Long, thick black hair, big, intense blue eyes, a killer figure with curves in all the right places, sweet personality, easy to please.  Meanwhile, I could make people throw up just by showing up.  I'm as ugly as sin: zit city, curly, unkempt hair that has a mind of its own, a big honker, horned rimmed specs: you get the picture.  I'm the poster boy for geekiness.

Meghan keeps telling me I'm being way too hard on myself, but I can't help it.  I see her, and it's like everything I thought I learned about females goes flying right out the window because let's face it: she's HOT with a capital H.  I'm glad she loves me, but I'm not worthy of it.  I tell her this all the time, but she tells me I'm being stupid or silly and I need to learn to love myself.  Easier said than done, Horatio.

I'm still trying to work up the courage to tell her I don't want to be her boyfriend anymore, but I see her, and I can't do it.  So I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place.  I honestly don't know what to do; I'm at a complete loss.

~To be continued.~