10.25.02
Found myself a crooked lady
When I was in grade 11, I was desperate to fall in love. I wanted to have sex, and I wanted to care about a boy for more than a few days. I started writing pseudo-love letters to a friend of mine, who was as hopeless as I. Somewhere, I still have those letters, and the ones he wrote me back.
We both knew nothing would happen, that neither of us would persue a relationship farther than letters. He was too wrapped up in the sorrow of love, and I was too emotional, too worried about images.
Eventually the letters stopped, and sadly our friendship faded after that. Not completely, but it was never the same.
When I lived in France, the year after high school, he started writing me emails, along the same lines. The "what if's" and the "we could have been's." He moved to Italy last spring with his family, and I think about him once in a while. I think about how we would have been together. And while I know it wouldn't have lasted, I think we would have made some nice memories. But then again, my memories of him are very nice as they are.
Maybe I worry too about about what's going to be, the way things may end. I don't let go enough, when it comes to my heart. There's a boy I've met. He smiles at me and introduced himself. He's once foot taller than me with a sweet smile and blue eyes.
There are times when you're ready for something new, and times when you're not. I'm not really sure where I am right now. I think about talking to him, about where I might see him tomorrow and my heart flutters. But then I tell myself not to be silly, not to imagine too much, because my heart isn't ready to lay itself out again.
It's been a long time since my heart fluttered about a boy in an innocent way. It seemed like everything with Zach was a little wrong. Maybe it was the way we started, or the feelings I hurt by being with him. But I imagined that people didn't aprove. And maybe they didn't, but I'm sure I let myself go too far with it.
How can there be a right or wrong as far as love goes? I feel there is, though. Like my friend who's dating an English boy, and they haven't slept together yet. But there's so much pressure to give in and it seems as though no one cares as much about giving yourself to someone as I do. And there's pressure to hold out, and make sure the person is right. And I'm never really sure of what to do.
We'll pass through Princett County
and I can steal you semething pretty
you'll say "man, aren't I lucky?
gone and found myself a crooked lady."
And we'll drive like bandits on the Queensway
we'll hold hands like in the movies
I'll say, "oh Clyde, you drive me crazy."
you'll just capture me
like it was armed robbery.
wunderwuman at