That Girl

That girl you see at the bar isn't always drunk, just lacking in confidence. She isn't intimidating,  just shy. She isn't quiet, just unsure of how to talk to people. She prefers to listen and admire the people around her.  When she does talk, please don't mistake it as flirting as many people do.  She doesn't flirt, she just smiles with her eyes. She sits alone writing, she isn't a weirdo. She does her own thing regardless of what others think. That doesn't mean she is snobby and thinks you are beneath her, she likes being in her own bubble.

That girl doesn't like it when you accuse her of being ignorant. Nine time out of ten you are annoyingly creepy and stating the obvious. Yes she is writing in a bar, yes she is alone. She prefers to stay away from your kind, the kind that makes her stomach roll. She has a reason to ignore your advances. You don't understand being told 'no' for the umpteenth time. You insult her speech, her fashion style. That girl has her eyes set on someone else.


That guy. The guy who appears to be a walking cliche; his smile lights up the room, his eyes sparkling with mischief with a hint of playfulness. His hold makes you feel protected. His touch makes you feel warm inside. An accent that rivals the stereotypical Irish charm. An international crush. Almost perfect. That guy happens to be someone untouchable, out of her league, her friend's crush as it seems too. one could guess it's due to his ability to charm ant woman he comes across.

For now that girl will dream instead.