Friday, 15 December 2006

I know someone who has been loved, by so many people. Even now, though they aren't aware of it, they're loved by so many people, who aren't me.
People tell me these things. I'm one of those people everyone tells things to. Perhaps I seem like a safe person. Like a person who would not tell, which I wouldn't. But how do they know?
They tell me about how they love him. They tell me about all the little things he's said to them, and the things they thought those words meant. Metaphors and in-jokes and little thoughts that make them smile.
And all the while, he has loved me. Perhaps not only me, but he has loved me none the less. And everytime a girl comes up to me to tell me about how they love him, I can't say anything in reply.

I'm writing in this tone because of the c.d I'm listening to. I'll change the c.d and my mood will change, the mood slate will be wiped clean, and everything will return back to the way it was. That's why i'm writing this. To show that once, I felt like this, however this is.

Comments:
What CD were you listening to?
 
song of tim and neil finn, sung by different women.

(songs of crowded house... they're an old aussie band...)
 
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