Its one thing to dream, and another thing to see your dreams broken before your very eyes.
You give your hand to me
And then you say hello
And I can hardly speak
My heart is beating so
And anyone can tell
You think you know me well
But you don't know me...
It's all my fault of course. I was and am ever the romantic idealist - in other words, foolish. But that's the thing about dreams, they have a way of getting you so drunk on them that nothing else seems to matter.
No you don't know the one
Who dreams of you at night
And longs to kiss your lips
Longs to hold you tight
Oh I am just a friend
That's all I've ever been
Cause you don't know me
It always boils down to how much you're willing to understand, give way, and eventually adjust. Nothing's perfect, I know, but that's a lesson I've never seemed to learn.
I never knew the art of making love
No my heart aches with love for you...
Who said life was fair, nice, and good, anyway? How terribly daft I must be to even entertain the thought.
But once again, I love her, and so all discussion ends there.
"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it oepns up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love." - Rose Walker, The Kindly Ones, Sandman vol. 9