I guess we met a couple bona fide angels,
But they all seemed kinda fat and fatigued.
Now we're trying to match the mouth to the screams,
To match the heads with their dreams.
I'm not trying to call anyone fat... it's just the lyrics.
But I keep doing this. I meet someone I think is perfect. I know is perfect. Beautiful, funny, smart.
Generally amazing. And things seem to be going well. I actually start to believe that maybe they're interested in me. Maybe they like me.
Then... bam. They put up a wall, withdraw, disappear, or decide they hate my guts. For no apparent reason. And it scares me. It scares me because they're so wonderful and fragile and they deserve to be loved. And they shouldn't be hurt anymore - and they are.
And so am I; I wonder what it feels like to be wanted. Desired. Cared for.
I wander and I wonder what it's like to not be alone.
Excuses and half-truths and fortified wine,
Excuses and half-truths and fortified wine.
I know it's unlikely she'll ever be mine,
So I mostly just pray she don't die.