Victoria Chase. She has consumed my thoughts for the past few days, ever since I first saw her in Mr Jefferson's class. Just thinking about her, makes my heart flutter and constrict with pain, knowing that I'll never get close enough to her for her to even notice me. Though she is not without her flaws.

I love her sassy, witty comebacks which make me feel inferior to her yet in awe of her quick-thinking skills. I love her crisp tone and precise pronunciation of each word. There's just something about her clear phonetic pronunciation and sultry, song-like voice that makes me shiver with pleasure. It's like how most people talk in movies in the 1950's. People may find it weird. But I absolutely do not. I could just listen to her talk all day long.

She wears collared shirts, short skirts, leggings, and a nice pair of short heels to top it off. All of which are by no less, branded and probably signed by the designers themselves. Yet, I love the way she looks, the way her short skirt reveals her long silky legs despite her leggings and the way she looks so professional and poised with her collared shirts. Her pixie cut makes her appearance even more appealing, the boyish cut enhancing her rebel personality. It makes her more intriguing. She also never forgets to complete her ensemble with a lavender perfume, the smell making her more enticing than it is possible. She leaves her mark everywhere she goes, with her very subtle pervasive lavender smell. As if I'm not tortured enough.

Oh, and as if her fashionable style and language weren't enough, her facial features are the crème of the crop. Her pert nose, feminine luscious lips, soft cheekbones make me go all 'goo-goo gaga' every time I look at her.

I sound like a love-sick lunatic. I probably am.

But I can't help it.

Especially when I get a glance at her eyes. Her big, beautiful, slate-green eyes, which might deceive any innocent bystander that she's a well-mannered, obedient girl. But I know better, having seen the subtle yet blazing fire in them. If you were to even accidentally stand in her way, you would regret the day you were born (as cliché as it sounds, it's true). I'd give anything for her to look at me with her fury-filled eyes, even if I'd melt the moment she graced me a look. Anything is worth being noticed by her. Even now, my arms feel weak, typing this out, due to the pent-up longing I have for her. Describing it in words is hard, but it's nice to be able to break down and decipher the swirling storm raging in me, every time I see or even think about her.

I love how she built herself in a way that she made everyone fear and respect her at the same time. When she steps into a room, everyone immediately keeps their tones hushed, as if they could sense her aura without even looking up at her. That's her.

I love how she openly portrays her body by clubbing and dancing, hips swaying hypnotically, twirling and moving her hands up and down her body in the most sensual way. She knows how tempting she looks but she also knows how nobody, in their right mind, would advance upon her delirious state because of how they would feel like a dumb fool coming near her, disturbing the entrancing rhythm she's set her body in. It is this very sight. The sight of her letting her inhibitions out with the same carefreeness that only comes with the surety that no one is ever worthy enough to even brush against her. How can someone be this…godly?

But to be fair, she has her flaws too. Like her abrasive personality. She looks down on anyone who has any slight indication of a failure in any aspect of their life. This includes wealth, appearance, intelligence and morality. Though, a failure in morality would mean to be decently mannered in any aspect of life. If you're a bitch, congratulations, you are now qualified for the Vortex Club. However, if you're decently mild-mannered or religious, be prepared to get fucked, i.e be subjected to the brutal wrath of Victoria Chase. She is vicious, sly and cunning. She will stop at nothing to get what she wants, though she has already attained all that she wants at Blackwell Academy – status and popularity – so, what more can she want? Maybe she wants the whole school to be converted to hooliganism so that she can lord over everyone. Then i can be her right-hand man, and she'll actually notice me.

Okay, I think I've gone on too long. I sound like a love-sick sap, for gods' sake.

So, in summary, I would ascribe Victoria Chase to a lovely, but deadly trap. She lures you into her with her fashionable style, cult personality, wittiness and sensuality. Yet, one wrong step would put you under earth of 10 feet deep, with zero possibility of ever scratching the surface. She could be described as pandora's box, unleashing all evils once opened.

But, her portrayal of a feminine devil makes the vulnerable side of her even more precious and rare. If she expresses genuinity, compassion and kindness to you, you can be forever sure that you have died and are now an angel in heaven. Because, her expressing such values are so inexplicably rare that you must be an individual of heavenly qualities to be graced with them. Yet, it is this knowledge of her vulnerability that constricts my chest with such longing that I cannot bear to keep it in. I would collapse on the spot and probably be transported to a parallel universe, if she were to ever express such emotions to me, not that I'm worthy of it in any way. Can you imagine a slight lift of the right corner of her lips, which in essence, signifies a real, genuine smile?

NO.

Not in my world.

And yet, my thoughts about her persist, even with my pleadings with God or any other supernatural being, to make this madness stop. I even tried to talk to Kate, to absolve my sins (this sounds absurd but I was DESPERATE). She told me to meditate and read the Bible, of course. I tried, but after many years away from church, it felt foreign to me. Meditation didn't help too. I tried to think about plants, then it went to the colour green, then it went to Victoria's eyes. It was hopeless. Sigh. Now, I know how Warren feels. I should be kinder to him.

Well, all I can do now is to wish that maybe, just maybe, Victoria might have the slightest crush on me as I have on her. Tsk, who am I kidding?

On a side-note, I can't believe I wrote a whole fucking essay about HER. Of all the people. She's turned me into some literature poet. God...I AM hopeless. HELP.