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domingo, outubro 02, 2005

Good Enough 

She sat across from me and confessed how she had fallen for him. Her eyes, fallen to the apple martini in front of her, her fingers playing around the glass..."It sucks, u know?" And all I could do was nod in agreement, b/c indeed, it does suck.
She sat there, and occasionally looked up and forced a smile my way, trying to convince me she was ok, and this wasn't affecting her, b/c all along she knew nothing would happen. She shook her head and looked twds the window, but nothing outside offered an answer or a quick escape from her thoughts.
"I miss him. I like him." She twirled the almost empty glass and gave me another smile. I didn't know what to tell her, but I do know he's no good for her, so I told her. I don't think it's something one wants to hear, but it's the truth.
I wonder why our hearts play these tricks on us, when all we want is to have less worries, but end up w/ baskets full of preocupations, pointless cares. I wish he'd be good for her, b/c then I'd be able to tell her that it all worked out--but I don't think that'll ever happen, unfortunately.
I wish he'd be good for her, I really do.

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