I'm not going to start with a history of myself, because that's lame and doesn't really tell you anything about anyone. Let's be honest, you don't even really care where I've been or who I am, nor do I feel like typing a life story.
All you need to know, is that I am in love.
The first day we were together, I knew he was different. I knew I would fall for him. We got too close too fast. Intimacy is such a funny thing, really. The closer you get physically to each other, the less your emotions matter. Needless to say, I lost him, and I can't tell you how often my world falls down on me.
I had convinced him otherwise; that I had no feelings for him. But naturally, after a bit of gin, the truth is obvious. He came on to me. We made out in a few rooms, and everyone else at the party knew it. A couple days later, New Years Eve, which was last night, I kissed him. Something in my inebriated head said it was a good idea.
He's moved on, and he's not interested. And here I am, straight out of a Pablo Neruda poem, looking at him from the outside. He wants to meet new girls, and I'm in the way of that. God, I don't think I could take seeing him with other girls. My stomach hurts.
It would be useless to sing my heart into your ears. You would hear no melody.
You would not sing it back to me.
So I'll sit here, practicing the song I could never sing to you,
and trying to forget why I wrote it.
I wish I had the chance to lose him again.
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