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i died tonight — 8 july 2003 some direction — 21 march 2001 root of all knowledge — 8 february 2001 an angel — 12 september 2000 in the country — 6 september 2000 untitled — april 2000 thoughts at lunch — february 2000 another failed love poem — late 1999 what do i think of reality? — february 1999 winter — november 1998 |
AN ANGEL -- 12 SEPTEMBER 2000 There is this beautiful song by Mythos which I really like; it's called "Angels Weep." It doesn't always sound sad, and doesn't always sound happy. Actually, I think it depends on the weather. Either way, it's just as enchanting, and always makes me smile. But it wasn't written for me, and the smile it gives isn't mine. My smile is stolen, entirely without permission. As it passes by me, I grab just a little piece anyway; it's far too tempting. So this happened once before, but it was just "another failed love poem." Nothing came of it, and now we have a terrible case of failing to learn from the past. She has that same perfect hair, which is even more perfect when it's still wet and doesn't look combed through. She has that same perfect face, which is even more perfect when she smiles, even if the smile doesn't belong to me. And believe me, she has the most beautiful smile! It's this amazing, slightly hesitant, heart-melting little thing. God, she's so beautiful! It takes all of my will to look away, to keep her from my thoughts. So much so that it distracts me at times. Slightly moreso in her presence than not, of course. What do I do? She doesn't smile for me. Or look at me, or acknowledge my presence in any way at all. Which isn't so much surprising as it is disappointing. These things only work one way for me, according to experience. I just make a fool of myself, whether I act and am laughed at, or don't and give in to my pathetic side. It's a simple decision, if explained the right way. Either I can sit next to her and risk looking like a fool if my gaze wanders toward her face, or I can sit on the other side of the room and be safe admiring her from a distance. Sometimes I imagine she is speaking to me in her silence, because she doesn't act like the others. Does that mean she isn't part of those popular circles, and should be more easily approached, or does it mean that she is so far above the clouds that she is untouchable? Thinking about it makes me sad sometimes, but it can't keep me down for long, because I see something in her eyes that says "Ssh, that's okay." But that's only in my mind. And so, I imagine, we are on our way to heartbreak yet again. There's no need to get my hopes up, after all. However, there's no possibility of forgetting her, either. I'm afraid to complicate her life with my presence, and I'm afraid to give her a reason to turn away comletely. I need to learn to take chances. I already know how to protect myself. I need to learn where fear ends and opportunity begins. |
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