Overboard - Ingrid Michaelson

I could write my name by the age of 3
And I don't need anyone to cut my meat for me
I'm a big girl now, see my big girl shoes
It'll take more than just a breeze to make me

Fall over, fall over, 
Fall overboard, overboard
Fall overboard,
Just so you can catch me

But as strong as I seem to think I am,
My distressing damsel
She comes out at night, when the moon's filled up
And your eyes are bright, and I think I simply outta

Fall over, fall over,
Fall overboard, overboard
Fall overboard,
Just so you can catch me

And I watch the ships go sailing by
If I be the girl will you play the guy
And I never thought I'd be the type
To fall, to fall, to fall

 

You think I'm weak, I think you're wrong

I think I need this in my life

Beauty is how you feel on the inside, and it reflects through your eyes. It's not physical.

Regardless of What Happens

We were two bouncing souls, trapped in high school hallways. We collided and meshed with plenty of other souls, making and breaking relationships that now serve as our past. But then one day, we interacted, and it was as if I had found a kindred soul. A soul made of the same fabric. Someone whose vibes frequented the same channels as mine. All of the sudden, our souls aligned. We walk down the sidewalk, parallel and practically in sync. Our paces differ at times, our laughter too early or late, but something is right. Something inside me feels like it never has before. Like I’ve found someone just for me, someone I like. One time I told him he was the best. He declined it, and now I think he is right. He is not the best, like I had once said. But what he is, is my favourite. He’s my kind of best.
I’m glad our souls finally found each other. That’s a beautiful image: us bouncing for four years, unconnected, and our sudden contact pulls us with extreme force onto the same track.
It’s inevitable, I don’t believe I have to the power to refuse it. I don’t believe I want to. I’m not sure if I should. Regardless of what happens, you are my kind of soul and I love you.

I just want to make you smile.

My Mom searches my face, anything you need to tell me? I say, no, meaning, there is nothing. Meaning, there is boat loads. Meaning, I can’t.

This warms my insides more than hot chocolate, steaming soup and chilli peppers combined.

I’d give you the time of day, any day, any way you want to hear it.


See, like right now it’s 12:02 on a Saturday night in the middle of August, and we’re laying on a beach, just you and me, waiting for someone to ask us to leave.

And now it’s 4:30 in the afternoon on a Wednesday. We’re eating frozen peas in rocking chairs on the porch of our old, white house. There goes our baby girl, down the driveway in the passenger seat of a green pickup, next to a boy she swears she loves. I love your wrinkles.

What time is it, you ask. It’s 8:28 on a Sunday morning. I’m leaving, for school. I don’t know when I’ll see you next, and all I know is to get to you is a 3 hour and 15 minute drive in a car I don’t have. On second thought, it’s not 8:28 on a Sunday morning.

In fact, I believe it’s 7:30 on a weeknight evening. The baby’s crying and you're watching football, I’m half asleep on your arm. I move to get the baby, but you hold me back and go yourself. I watch you walk, as exhausted as I am, from behind and realize I love being in this with you.

Now it’s 9:54 on a Wednesday night. Your curfew’s 10 and we have to make this quick. I’m not breathing, I can’t tell if you are. Here we go, deciding our futures on homemade theories and sparks. 

Precisely.

Strategy

Avoid
Avoid
Avoid
Avoid
Avoid
Avoid

The answer is a simultaneous yes and no.