Sunday, April 15, 2007

ntfp = us

On the way home from the Legion of Honor today (where I was truly miserable and was not at all calmed--or distracted), I was listening to Anberlin's sophomore album when suddenly it hit me...

Do you expect me to wait here
all alone in my thoughts and fears?
My whole life could flash before your eyes...
Hope one day that you'll realize
this isn't the way it's supposed to be.
This is your life going on without me.*
May regrets for us well up inside
as feelings for you are buried alive.

"These words are meant for me."

Those words were meant for me.

This is what he would say. Exactly.

It stung.

I could, at long last, see the finality in it. It seemed bleak. "This is what you must have felt like all those months."

I pondered that, even though I was never in love with you, I can't fall in love with anyone else because...because my heart is still covered in your fingerprints. Well, that and the fact that it's also made out of stone.

I didn't even like you. There are a million tiny reasons why it's suddenly become terrifyingly difficult to let go of you.

You would laugh to yourself if you read this. Smugly. You would be pleased at my stupidity. I think you're happy now, which you deserve. And this, this is what I deserve. So then.

It will be over when it is ready to be over. I am at peace with this fact, even while sometimes I wish I could rip my heart out with my own two hands. :)

Tonight I began listing aloud all the things I didn't like about you and that got on my nerves, to help me stop angelicizing you and missing you so much. It was such a successful endeavor (and quite fun as well) that the other girls got in on it as well, until we were all sitting around coming up with things we couldn't stand about our past relationships, for over an hour. This worked quite well for a while. Of course, in the end, we wound up dissolving into puddles of saccharine ooziness over sweet, adorable things that had happened in said past relationships, courtesy of Boy. *sigh* We're so sentimental. But it worked when we gave it a half-ass try.

As I bemoaned today, "I don't have a type. No, my type is psychotic people who aren't that good-looking! Mahh!"

Ah, the trivialities of young love.


*As it turns out, it's actually this is your life girl now without me, but Crystal and I have changed Stephen's lyrics before (i.e. you only stayed to break my heart and we are the loudest ones), so why stop now?

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3 Comments:

Blogger Mrs. Jagger said...

"1907, Hitler tried to get into the Vienna Academy of Art's School of Painting..."

DENIED, read the big red stamp across his forehead.
Or at least that's how it goes in my head...
Hey! At least you got in... :)

April 17, 2007 12:52 PM  
Blogger Angela said...

True! Yay!

Oh wait. My school excepts everyone... =(

April 17, 2007 11:06 PM  
Blogger Angela said...

And by "excepts" I mean "accepts." ='( What a sad night.

April 17, 2007 11:09 PM  

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