The Stalker

With the aid of a computer and the feeling of curiosity, she kept digging and digging until she found out what she had needed to find out. Though no one can really understand why she had to dig for something that isn't really pivotal nor instrumental in accomplishing anything, she felt a huge surge of pride. A pride that doesn't really benefit her in anyway except for the knowledge of knowing that the both of them aren't really separated by oceans or deep ridges, but separated only by a hair's breadth. Or at least this is what she makes of it. But in reality, no matter how closely connected they may be, there is still that element of separation that keeps them from each other. An element which there isn't any logic to. An element of fear of venturing into something which at least one of them sees no benefit in pursuing. After all, so what if she did? Would she then have to ask him a question in which his reply would simply be "Yes I do. But so what? Does in even concern you?" What, what would be the worth of such a foray? We as spectators may never know. But only she does. Only she will ever understand what she does. For secretly, she is a stalker. A stalker of epic proportions. One who is willing to do whatever it takes just so that she would be able to feel that much closer to him. Eventhough she hardly will ever be through such unorthodox methods. But then again, who are we to ever understand how a stalker thinks, feels and perceives all that goes around them? Unless we ourselves are stalkers. Which isn't such an absurd idea after all.