01.09.03
There ain't no cure for love
Sometimes, in the quiet spaces during the day, in the lulls between class and the gym and friends, I wonder how it is that I feel so utterly alone.
Most days I just don't think. I'm happy this way, and go about my own things. I don't let myself think about a boy who made me sad in the summer, or the friends that never stay for long enough, or even the days like these sunshiney snowy ones one or two or three years ago, and what I was then.
When I let myself think about these things, I wonder where the girl I was went. I wonder when the poetry turned into quiet reservations, when the breasts became heavier, the hips more full.
I told myself for months that there were no answers, so it would be best to stop asking questions, and to just accept what is. And while I don't disagree with this, sometimes, I miss the innocent girl who thought that she could find the right answers if only she looked hard enough.
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