The magenta haired clown sat on his bed in his trailer, holding his head in his hands. He couldn't get you out of his head, the way you smiled at his performances and how you laughed at his jokes. The clown couldn't believe it but he was in love and he was in love with you. He sighed and stood up, walking to his vanity and putting his hands on the desk, looking at the eyes on his torso in the miror. "Don't look at me like that." He grumbled to the eyes that stared judgementally.