Funny how sometimes you just find things. —Tracy McConnell
Actually, it’s even funnier how easily we can lose them;
who we once thought absolutely had to be devoid of any feelings.
We shared all of our classes in the wee hours of the morning, where
you sat a few seats back from me, but we were never properly acquainted.
We had the same homeroom, and I think we had some same friends, yet the
closest we ever got was you laughing at one of my Chemistry class moments.
I remember you wearing a yellow dress on prom weekend. I circled around the lobby
(having no date made that real easy). I can’t believe it’s been this many years and we’ve
never actually spoken. You’re just a picture in my yearbook, and there’s not a courtesy sign even.
Three more until the reunion. You’ll probably have a date then, but it’s worth a shot to question
why our lockers were always so separate, even when we had the same last name (pause) letter.
People egged me on at lunchtime that we could’ve actually been together.
Twenty plus have passed, and I have yet to ask, would you have gone out with me, or given me a shot?
I’ve never asked a girl that; then, now or ever. I’m afraid of the answer. I don’t think I deserve you.
Love legends lost in translation, coupled with the distance, and a lack of emotion,
is the reason that you weren’t chosen, dated, or even ultimately proposed to;
instead, forever left at the altar, waiting for a response that never came when it was supposed to.
“But we were supposed to—” What? Be? How hopelessful are your dreams?
The problem with love stories is you’re destined to be with someone destined to be with someone else;
that’s the only truthful self.