What a waste

When you try your best but you don't succeed; when you get what you want but not what you need; when you feel so tired that you can't see-- stuck in reverse.

When the tears come streaming down your face; when you lose something you can't replace; when you love someone but it goes to waste, could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you.

And high up a above or down below; when you're too in love to let it go, but if you never try you'll never know just what you were.

Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you.

-Fix You by Cold Play

This song is probably one of my very favorite. Its one of those songs that's perfect for any occasion...except for birthdays, and probably Kwanza. But, what do I know about contemporary African American holidays.

Here's why I'm quoting the song to you today. "When you love someone but it goes to waste." We've all experienced this, and now after pausing momentarily to remember the lack of courage that accompanied it, think of it on the flip side: What if someone loves you, and their love is going to waste?

Wouldn't it be nice, if we all just said exactly how we felt? I guess, I'm old enough to realize now, that when we're talking Love--not just the kind that gets you a husband--there's no use in playing games. Just say it how it is, otherwise, you find yourself in a difficult place. I'd sure like to know if someone cared, even if it was only for a day; even if my return affection wasn't equal to theirs; even if it drastically changed our relationship. Wouldn't it be nice to know?

I know a girl who believes she cares about a boy...a lot. She asked him out, and found no return affection. So then, she decided "she was over it". Maybe she is. But, maybe-- maybe he needs to know. Not for the sake of their happily ever after, but maybe, for the sake of his just knowing that there's something about him that someone, somewhere, thinks is real worthwhile.

What if you never knew? What a shame. So, here's my open invitation. If you love me, tell me. Haha. Really. Then, I'll see what I can do about making sure that good thing doesn't go to waste.

And now that I've almost burned the house down, because I always forget about the food I have on the stove when I sit down to write a thought or two, I'll peace out. If you hear sirens, just know they were meant for me and my charcoal macaroni.