"Love Song For No One"

Every once in awhile you encounter a piece of writing that sheds light on yourself and becomes something that will stick with you forever. Sylvia Plath wrote “Mad Girl’s Love Song” which I studied in college is one of those pieces. Plath repeats one line over and over again in the poem, “I think I made you up inside my head.” I know that I have been guilty of this, be it a complete fictional person or taking someone in my life and creating a story around them that is more to my liking than reality.

There’s a safety in living inside my mind because there, I can control all factors and am never thrown a curve ball. In my head I get the guy, and he is perfect for me. Reality is generally on the other side of the spectrum… I may get a guy, but he rarely turns out to be anything more than a loser I should never have wasted my time on to begin with…. A certain guy who flirted for a while, said all the right things, and turned out to have had a girlfriend the entire time comes to mind as a perfect example of my luck. The luck of the Irish is the unluckiest kind.

Yet living in my head means that there is no physical contact and I crave that more than most things. The soft grazing of fingers across my forehead pushing my unruly hair out of my face, a hand on the small of my back while in a crowd keeping me close so I don’t get bumped in to, the millions of small gestures that mean so much more than the one making them will ever know.

I was asked this weekend how I could be single. Why am I still single? I hate that question, regardless of the vain it is meant in, it implies that I am defective, clearly there must be something wrong with me or else I would have been snatched up by now and living happily ever after. In some sense I am defective, I live too much inside of my mind, which causes me to be misunderstood, or for me to get blinded by what I want to see versus what is actually in front of me. But in reality I want to find love so much it hurts, I want love more than most single girls in their mid 20s and yet I keep shooting myself in the foot to spite my face in my hunt for it.

There is a reason why there are so many poems about girls in love where their sanity can be questioned. We are driven there by the games that men seem insistent upon playing. I will never understand why a guy cannot be upfront with a girl about his intentions or what is running through his mind about her and if there is potential there or not. Sure, I don’t want a guy who proclaims his favorite movie of all time is the Notebook, but I wouldn’t mind one that tells me what he thinks of me.

Yet if we bring up the topic too soon we become “that girl” and no female wants to be her so we allow ourselves to be mentally tortured by the thoughts running rampant through our minds because we don’t know what the great guy we went on a date or two with is thinking. I am quick to judge and have never been known for my patience… if I am in to a guy, he’ll know it; I just wish that the guy could do the same. But they never do because there is power in their games, they know that by remaining closed off they ensure the girl will spend double the amount of time thinking about him, analyzing his every word with her girlfriends and will be putty in his hands. It’s just plain cruel.

Right now I’m a little confused and I’m trying to just let the cards fall where they will, but I’ve never been very good at letting things happen on their own time. I have two doors in front of me, behind one is someone who has paid me so many compliments that I never hear but there are more negatives than positives in that situation. Behind the other door is someone who is closed off but who has helped to fill in a large piece of the puzzle of what I am looking for in a man and is someone I think I could really like.

I swear, when it rains it pours… I’ve been joking with my friends about how I should really write a book for I have some great stories to tell about the situations I tend to get myself in to. At least those in my life can count on me for a good story every now and again.

Yet I am still writing my love song for no one, the person I have either not met yet or don’t know has those feelings for me. And yes, I am directly referring to the John Mayer song (lyrics posted at the end of my ramble). Mayer says, “I’m jaded I hate it” as am I… I am not saying I want to change my last name any time in the near future. Please, I’m a product of divorced parents; I’m far too cynical about love and marriage to want it all now. But I am tired of being alone and cannot help but to think that perhaps I am doing something wrong.

The more I think about it though the clearer it becomes… I’m not so much tired of being alone as I am tired of being confused by silly boys. Does that make me a silly girl? I know that I am temperamental and often times irrational, but I do know that I am worthy of an amazing man; guess he just needs to hurry up and get here.



I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

"Mad Girl's Love Song" - Sylvia Plath

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Staying home alone on a Friday
Flat on the floor looking back
On old love
Or lack thereof
After all the crushes are faded
And all my wishful thinking was wrong
I'm jaded
I hate it

I'm tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here
So tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here
Get here

Searching all my days just to find you
I'm not sure who I'm looking for
I'll know it
When I see you
Until then, I'll hide in my bedroom
Staying up all night just to write
A love song for no one

I'm tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here
So tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here

I could have met you in a sandbox
I could have passed you on the sidewalk
Could I have missed my chance
And watched you walk away?
Oh no way

I could have met you in a sandbox
I could have passed you on the sidewalk
Could I have missed my chance
And watched you walk away?

I'm tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here
I'm so tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here

I'm tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here
I'm so tired of being alone
So hurry up and get here

You'll be so good
You'll be so good for me
Oh You'll be so good

“Love Song For No One” by John Mayer