Better Do Better

How confusing. The thought echoed through my head as I looked at her, playing with her hair in the mirror and trying to keep the hurt look in her eyes away from me. How can things get so bad after they start out so... euphoricly? I imitate her smile and run my fingers through her hair. "This way looks cuter," I'd say, or- "Maybe you should put the bobby pins higher- like this." I didn't know how to talk to her about it- because- I know nothing about love. I know only what I see, what I hear. What can turn into giggly joy and obsessive passion can flip flop into jagged slices on your arms and tears. Why? I don't understand. I wish I did, so I could somehow make that hurt duller for her. She smiles at me and puts on her eyeliner. I remember her voice over the phone. "Why does there have to be so much drama? I'm sick of the drama. She says she loves him." I swallow and feel sad. The tears that were in her voice haunt me. I hate it. I'm afraid of it. Why do people allow themselves to fall in love if they know this might happen? I see everyone that gets close to me as a threat. How dare you try to capture me? I am mine own! Because that's all it is, isn't it? Giving yourself to someone and adding them to your descisions- walking over glass and taking bullets, changing yourself just to get a smile... No. I don't want it! I don't want to change- I don't want to be tied to a hitching post just because they want me to be there. "Oh, nobody knows, nobody know, body know, how I loved a man, as I teared off his clothes- Nobody know, nobody know, nobody knows- my pain..." They sing about it, the love, leading to the pain. Will it happen to me? God... no. I hope not. But I know the day will come that I will look into someone's eyes and fall hopelessly into that abyss that they call love. Because we are all doomed to it, it happens eventually. I just pray that I've done all I wanted before I'm trapped into it. Because- there's no choice in love. The idea of Cupid... it makes sense. But for now, I'm still running.