Strikeouts

Being alone can be comforting. It can be torturous. To be left with your thoughts can be dangerous. Because minds wander without supervision. And my vision is definitely not super. I've found myself staring at my image in the mirror; at my bad skin, my completely inadequate body and thinking no wonder I'm single. The miracle of modern science hasn't made me a 10 yet.

Still, I thought I had something to offer. But I'm the only side of the 'I miss you' repartee. The ball I bat to the other side of the court will simply bounce off into the distance. I know he's hurting, but not because of me. And I can't help but think, what's she got that I haven't got? What makes her so special? Well, for one thing, I know she blows me away in the body department. That's about all I know about her. But I still don't understand what makes her so lovable and not me. I'd like to know what her secret is. I'm sure she's not perfect, but she's definitely able to hold the rapt attention of the only man I'd like attention from, and that's something. She doesn't even have to try. He's constantly trying to figure her out or just reminiscing or something that I can't see because I can never figure out what's going on in his head. And this is no exception.

I wanted to believe that somewhere in his heart he still had those feelings for me. That he would eventually be able to find them under the wreckage she left behind. No dice. I'm just that goofy chick that talks too much and cries too much and makes all sorts of trouble for him. Because I was stupid enough to fall in love. It seems I have a knack for batting balls that will not be returned. Constant strikeouts. My contract is cancelled; I'm cut from the team; my all time batting average is a dismal zero. That's not even good enough for little league. I suck at this game.