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Greymatter | Memebot

March 2006

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03/21/2006: "A beauty"

music: The Swan by Camille Saint-Saens
mood: bittersweet

She smiled whenever she said hello to him. He was ragged and poor, and destined to die, yet she smiled. With her winsome face, long legs, and gorgeous figure, he wouldn't have been surprised if she walked on by with her nose in the air. Hell, he figured a woman as lovely as that could slap him for just looking, yet she smiled. She smiled.
"No one could love you," he told his equally frazzled reflection. "You fucked it all up a long time ago, and now you're just playing out the string. So, it doesn't matter if she smiles. She can't love you: she just loves to smile."
Sometimes he wouldn't see her for days, and she would sink into the back of his mind as he went through his grueling day, followed by an uneventful evening, each day after the other, with the same effect as the Chinese water torture. He knew he was going insane, but he also knew that his desire for her was the only sanity this world had left for him. But he knew he could never win her love: he was not
successful, nor handsome. He could make her laugh, yet he knew that would not sway her, would not enflame her senses, and make her abandon all she knew for his cramped, uncomfortable world. Seeing how she was 7 inches taller than he was, that would obviously make her even more distressed. The laughs would never stop, each one more unbearable than the one before.
He didn't even know her name, and he was better off not knowing. Soon, she graduated from the small
college where he worked, and he kept his nothingness intact. One day, he saw her walking down the street towards him. His heart beat faster, but his mind reminded his eager heart of the quixotic aspects of his ardor. She was lovelier than ever, and he more ragged, but he smiled, looking upon her approaching form the same way a poet looks at the sunrise.
"Hello there," he said as she passed.
She smiled.

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