Sunday, September 18, 2011

In Which I Angst a Little, Some More.

Hands touch, eyes meet
Sudden silence, sudden heat
Hearts leap in a giddy whirl
He could be that boy
But I'm not that girl

Don't dream too far
Don't lose sight of who you are
Don't remember that rush of joy
He could be that boy
I'm not that girl

Ev'ry so often we long to steal
To the land of what-might-have-been
But that doesn't soften the ache we feel
When reality sets back in

Blithe smile, lithe limb
She who's winsome, she wins him
Gold hair with a gentle curl
That's the girl he chose
And Heaven knows
I'm not that girl

Don't wish, don't start
Wishing only wounds the heart
I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl
There's a girl I know
He loves her so
I'm not that girl...

Don't wish, don't start
Wishing only wounds the heart:
There's a girl I know
He loves her so
I'm not that girl....

(Lyrics from musical "Wicked")


Why do I have to fall so hard for wonderful guys who would never imagine I'd be interested, and certainly never dream of being with me? I try to hint, try to speak to him, try to smile at him whenever I see him, try to meet his eyes and let my eyes say something about what I feel, about how I could love him... And then I have to smile when he shows up with a cheerful, beautiful woman on his arm, because he's wonderful, and she's wonderful too, and they are so wonderful together, and how could I have ever thought I would be a fit match for him...

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