I'm sure we all know that horrible feeling. It is a monster of many names - crush, angst, unrequited love. Of course, eventually we all grow up, grow old, grow wise, and realize that it's all silly; there are other fish in the sea, after all. But, even if we know it, there's nothing that can shake those bitter feelings of loneliness and longing from a teenager's mind.
It's when you sit in your school's cafeteria, every day at lunch, staring at that pretty girl, but constantly making sure that she never knows that you are (after all, the way you avert your eyes every time she looks at you hardly seems suspicious). It's knowing that you could always go and strike up a conversation, knowing that you could impress her with how sweet, and sensitive, and caring and charming and compassionate and funny you are. You can talk to her about all those mutual interests you have - you like the same movies and the same music and you could go to that Dave Matthews concert together, that'd be so romantic wouldn't it?
But, alas, it's also knowing that she's way out of your league. It's knowing how much she scares you. After all, there's nothing to fear but fear itself - and it's knowing that even if you did have the balls to talk to her you'd be too frightened by the fear of rejection to say something outside the box of boring.
C'est la vie.
But, worst of all, it's sitting there with your friends when she's coming your way. You remember all those lines you practiced in the mirror. You make sure your hair is falling the right way, you shovel the snowfall of dandruff off your shoulders, you make sure there aren't any zits on your face that need popping.
Why's she coming over here? That doesn't matter. Maybe she remembers you from that French class you had with her last semester. Or...maybe she saw you staring at her (nah, of course not...you're way too subtle and sneaky for that to ever happen).
Imagine how crushed you feel when she's just there to say "Hi" to your friend, even using a sickeningly cute nickname for him. The trauma! The pain! The angst! You do notice the shirt she's wearing, though - how could you miss the stretched label she's sporting on her chest?
There's only one thing for you to do, naturally - suffer the remaining half of the day in a mood of bitter dejection, then come home and sort through your record collection for the only vinyl that'll soothe your soul, the only salve for your weary heart. Yes, I'm of course talking about Road to Ruin.
I Wanna Be Sedated.
Who knew that catchy pop punk could make you cry?