The Philosophy Creeper

It's time for one of my "Only Katelyn" stories.
Periodically, I will share stories of experiences that have actually happened to me. They may seem unbelievable, but I promise that I can't make these things up. I am nowhere near that creative. So, without further delay, this is the story of my Philosophy Creeper.

My last semester of college I was enrolled in an upper-level philosophy class. Let me make it perfectly clear that I was not a philosophy major, minor, or anything of the sort. It just so happened that the class fit my schedule, had enough credit hours so I could graduate on time, and I was fortunate enough to have a friend who was getting his Doctorate degree in Philosophy to help me out if I was having trouble. (Thanks Joshua, I would have been in serious trouble with that class if it hadn't been for you!) Anyway, this is a ridiculously difficult class, with a professor that gets sidetracked and drones on about off the wall topics, and just happens to be in the time slot right before lunch (that time when you have been awake for 6 hours and are getting sleepy, but can't focus because you are so hungry). Needless to say, this class was not the easiest for me to pay attention in, but I was determined to do my best. Even with 18 sleeping students, a teacher that sounds like Charlie Brown's teacher when he talks, and me being eternally exhausted, I was bound and determined to get a good grade in this philosophy class.

One day, towards the beginning of the semester, in an attempt to stay awake and pay attention, I turned around in my desk. I thought if I popped my back and moved a little that I would wake up and be more attentive. (Plus, I wanted to see who was snoring in the back of the class. haha!) When I was turned around and stretching, I noticed that another student was awake; the basketball player sitting behind me diagonally was awake and doodling on his notebook. I thought, "He found a way to keep himself occupied and awake. Drawing. Good for him."
...That's when curiosity got the best of me...
Whether it was an attempt to get my mind back to a solid (instead of the grey mush that was dripping out of my ears from being so bored in class) or me simply being nosy, I wanted to see what the basketball player was drawing. So, I looked. My first thought was that he was a pretty good artist. He was drawing some girl, and it was a really good picture. Then I realized that the girl he was drawing was me. "Maybe you're just imagining that he is drawing you. Yeah, that's it," I thought. So I looked again. Yep, it was definitely me that he was drawing. Believe it or not, this didn't freak me out. I assumed that the basketball player was just really bored and drawing me because I was the only other person awake in class. I just shrugged it off as a one time thing.
That is where I was wrong.
After knowing that he had drawn me once before, I was compelled to see who or what the basketball player was drawing the next day in class. Because this is an "Only Katelyn" story, I bet you can guess who he was drawing. That's right, me again. I guess I am an interesting person to draw because this guy would draw me every time he was in class. Literally every time. He would draw me as if he was looking at me from different angles, he would draw me so that I was standing up and other times sitting at my desk. He drew beauty shots of me (where the only thing in the picture was my face and shoulders) and he drew couture pictures of me (as if I were wearing elegant gowns, (which I never wore to class, so he was getting really creative here!)). He dedicated a few pages to drawing only my face: sometimes I was serious-looking, sometimes I was smiling, and once I was smirking. Then there were the days that he brought in colored pencils to amp up his artwork; he used a specific blue pencil to add coloring when drawing my very unique ring (so there is no chance that I am imagining it is me he's sketching). Another day he used pencils in shades of blue and a touch of green when he drew my eyes on his notebook instead of taking notes over Immanuel Kant. This guy was definitely paying attention to details.

Now, this might not sound bad to some people. And it wouldn't have creeped me out so bad if it hadn't been for one thing: the guy never talked to me. Not once. We sat next to each other in class every day for 4 months, and he drew me each day, but he never said one word to me. He filled half a notebook with pictures of me, but never said "Hi." (Of course, it didn't help the creep-factor that he drew me EVERY SINGLE DAY!)

One day, about halfway through the semester, I thought about letting him know that I had seen him drawing me, and that I thought he was talented. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. He never knew that I had seen him sketching me.
Towards the end of the semester, I decided that I was going to ask him for one of the pictures of me; I figured that he wouldn't mind losing one picture out of dozens, and like I said, they were pretty good pictures. I wanted a souvenir! But as luck would have it, the artist did not show up on the last day of classes, so I never got the chance.

What do you think: Am I being paranoid and making too big of a deal out of this? Does anyone else think it's creepy that this guy drew me everyday for four months, yet never talked to me (even though there were several opportunities)? Would you have had the courage to talk to him and let him know that you'd seen the sketches he had of you? As always, let me know what you think. I can't wait to see what you have to say about this situation.