It's sad when a man who believes himself to be invincible but he now sat beaten and alone.
Someone who think of himself as smart, capable, charming... (all the positive adjective a conceited person might use)... etc...
Yet he is utterly powerless in the face of love.
Why is it that I find myself staring at her profile photo on facebook? I stare at it in a stupor; expressionless yet raging with emotions. Why can't I forget? I try to analyse her face and her body but I found no answers: She's very pretty but I have dated prettier girls since then; her body is slender and she has curves where it counts but I have been with sexier girls since then... Why is she so unforgetable?
I don't imagine being back with her. I have been nat-free for almost a year now. I am see a new girl. She's smart, cute and very lovable... but I can't feel the same way about her as I did for nat.
I don't imagine having one last night with her. It's never the sex that brought me back to her.
I imagined all the times she looked at me with her deep-emerald eyes. I imagined all the times when she would laugh and her pearl-like teeth would make a timid appearance. I imagined how we used to walk across the ice-covered campus of McGill, with her cowering next to me, clutching my arms tightly for support.
Before I met her across the caferteria in high school, I was fine...
Before I went out with her one fateful summer night, I was fine...
Before I spend countless nights just staying up and talking with her, I was fine...
Before I laid eyes on her again an hour ago (her profile picture on facebook), I was fine...
When will I ever be fine again? I can't seem to permenantly erase her from my mind. A potion that lets people fall in love might be worth its weight in gold, but a drink that lets you forget about love is priceless.
I have no real interests in other women. They all seem blend and... too "happy-cheerleader-ly" for me. I want a girl with history, with stories... with eyes that can tell those stories. I want to make her sad eyes bright, I want the sorrow that sat in the corner of those eyes to be gone like the fallen leaves of yester-season.
If I can't forget her in my present state of mind; then maybe I can do it over a few shots of vodka...
Someone who think of himself as smart, capable, charming... (all the positive adjective a conceited person might use)... etc...
Yet he is utterly powerless in the face of love.
Why is it that I find myself staring at her profile photo on facebook? I stare at it in a stupor; expressionless yet raging with emotions. Why can't I forget? I try to analyse her face and her body but I found no answers: She's very pretty but I have dated prettier girls since then; her body is slender and she has curves where it counts but I have been with sexier girls since then... Why is she so unforgetable?
I don't imagine being back with her. I have been nat-free for almost a year now. I am see a new girl. She's smart, cute and very lovable... but I can't feel the same way about her as I did for nat.
I don't imagine having one last night with her. It's never the sex that brought me back to her.
I imagined all the times she looked at me with her deep-emerald eyes. I imagined all the times when she would laugh and her pearl-like teeth would make a timid appearance. I imagined how we used to walk across the ice-covered campus of McGill, with her cowering next to me, clutching my arms tightly for support.
Before I met her across the caferteria in high school, I was fine...
Before I went out with her one fateful summer night, I was fine...
Before I spend countless nights just staying up and talking with her, I was fine...
Before I laid eyes on her again an hour ago (her profile picture on facebook), I was fine...
When will I ever be fine again? I can't seem to permenantly erase her from my mind. A potion that lets people fall in love might be worth its weight in gold, but a drink that lets you forget about love is priceless.
I have no real interests in other women. They all seem blend and... too "happy-cheerleader-ly" for me. I want a girl with history, with stories... with eyes that can tell those stories. I want to make her sad eyes bright, I want the sorrow that sat in the corner of those eyes to be gone like the fallen leaves of yester-season.
If I can't forget her in my present state of mind; then maybe I can do it over a few shots of vodka...