Look at her, they say. She's beautiful, and you nod. There's no denying it really. So admired, so different, confident and so incomprehensible.
What's it like to be something everyone looks at in approval? Someone whom boys queue up to please? She smiles at me sometimes and says, it's okay; you're nice, you'll find someone who's right for you.
She says it and believes it, because what else does she know? Love comes easy to people like her, and how could she understand what it's like to not have someone there for her? Does she know what it's like to scroll down her list of friends and find that "67 online" means none available. For her.
I don't think she knows what it means to be alone. Alone for her isn't finding blank doors wherever she turns, but simply a lot of weird doors, clustering around her and not knowing which one to walk through. She's not struggling to find anything, just a little confused as to which way to go.
It's hard to understand what they get afraid of still. For each jealous backstabber you'll find a thousand grunts willing to take the blow for her. Everytime she cries out, a new crowd will be there, all clamoring for a piece of her beauty.
It's even harder to say anything when they cry. Sure, he broke your heart, but there's another eighty-four handsome suitors waiting outside your door. Another hundred less eligible but ever-hopeful...replaceable beings. Like me. So someone will love you....again, you say. Once more, but even better.
And the next day you'll see them, all calm collected and picked up in their measured grace.Just how does she do it? They whisper all over again. And she smiles at you, beautifully as you don't quite know what to do as she meets your gaze.
What's it like to be normal you ask her, carelessly, desperately. Wrong. She doesn't know it either.
What's it like to be something everyone looks at in approval? Someone whom boys queue up to please? She smiles at me sometimes and says, it's okay; you're nice, you'll find someone who's right for you.
She says it and believes it, because what else does she know? Love comes easy to people like her, and how could she understand what it's like to not have someone there for her? Does she know what it's like to scroll down her list of friends and find that "67 online" means none available. For her.
I don't think she knows what it means to be alone. Alone for her isn't finding blank doors wherever she turns, but simply a lot of weird doors, clustering around her and not knowing which one to walk through. She's not struggling to find anything, just a little confused as to which way to go.
It's hard to understand what they get afraid of still. For each jealous backstabber you'll find a thousand grunts willing to take the blow for her. Everytime she cries out, a new crowd will be there, all clamoring for a piece of her beauty.
It's even harder to say anything when they cry. Sure, he broke your heart, but there's another eighty-four handsome suitors waiting outside your door. Another hundred less eligible but ever-hopeful...replaceable beings. Like me. So someone will love you....again, you say. Once more, but even better.
And the next day you'll see them, all calm collected and picked up in their measured grace.Just how does she do it? They whisper all over again. And she smiles at you, beautifully as you don't quite know what to do as she meets your gaze.
What's it like to be normal you ask her, carelessly, desperately. Wrong. She doesn't know it either.
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