Language

She makes me so nervous, and all I want to do is make her happy. I’m tired of counting the bumps in my dorm rooms stucco ceiling waiting for her call. If only I could be on her mind as much as she is mine, if only real life was like the movies. Where all I’d have to do is drink a lot and yell. I’ve been doing that for weeks now and I don’t have much to show. Every spare second of the past 2 weeks I’ve been retracing my mistakes. Like the grains in the wood they don’t lead anywhere. I’d rip my heart out and show it to her if it would make her think twice. But I don’t have the courage. I can’t compete with the prospective suitors that seek her. I can only look at memories and photographs pinned to my wall. Light spoiled Polaroid pictures of a girl I never knew I couldn’t live with out. Second chances don’t come around. Everyone tells me to let it go, maybe she’ll come around, maybe I won’t feel dead inside. But I can’ stand to be alone, She’d be happy with someone else. But I can stomach the idea, wolves in sheep’s clothing. I’ve become a child and a laughing stock, the one that everyone forgets. I don’t mean anything to anyone but her. And when I’m trapped inside under 3 feet of snow all I can do is wait for her call.
If this is what being nineteen is buy me a new suit, shine my shoes and bury me now.