She was a highly intelligent blonde girl with the most homeliest of attitudes but yet the most beautiful of faces.
She went, and so I studied the intricacies of car batteries to try and win her back. It didn't work.
She was a rebellious young redhead who liked skinny jeans with the most adorable nervous laugh that sounded like a very small car engine failing to turn over. She was slightly insecure.
She went, and so I studied how to identify various birds by their markings to try and win her back. It didn't work.
She was a masculine girl who was once head of a rugby team. She had problems expressing how she felt. A man had once done something awful to her.
She went, and so I memorised the number of every taxi company in the city to try and win her back. It didn't work.
She was a young girl who lived in the middle of nowhere with black hair, a sweet voice and a fondness for Damien Rice and Coldplay.
She went, and so I learned how to reassemble an alarm to try and win her back. It didn't work.
She was a keen-spirited girl with very fierce emotions who shared many of my deepest passions. Suffered terribly from erratic mood swings.
She went, and so I studied Friedrich Nietzsche and learned all about Existentialism to try and win her back. It didn't work.
She was one of the most kindest girls in the world who once sat down and showed me, in a scrapbook, exactly what problems she'd had growing up. She wouldn't even call her biological parents Mum and Dad. She didn't even know where they were and wanted somewhere to belong. For a while, I was content with treating her as a princess until I felt as if she was beginning to treat me like a pauper.
She went, and so I studied how to become a veterinarian to win her back.
As I sat there in that bar, I knew that it probably wouldn't win you back.
And as I wrapped the noose around my neck, lifted the large bottle of sleeping pills, readied the razor blade to my jugular and nodded to the friend on my left to proceed pouring bleach down my tired throat and nodded to the friend on my right to run the scimitar right through my sternum,
That's when you walked in.
You were having the worst day until you met me.
Not only had your car alarm broken, but your entire car had broken down and you'd found a small baby bird on the road and needed help identifying it and then resuscitating it and also wanted to have a discussion about Existentialism and the number of several taxi companies in the event that your car ever broke down again.