Why am I not that girl?
That sweet, kind, beautiful girl?
Blumiere tells me about when he was a boy.
Now, that feels like a different world.
I once told him,
'If I were her, things may be better.'
That was when he snapped at me for the first time.
I never knew it would ever happen.
I like to believe he snapped
Because I was perfect anyways.
But I've known - I've ALWAYS known
That that is not the case.
He felt that I wasn't the same.
Not as amazing, not as beautiful,
But thoughts of him, thoughts of him,
Keep my head full.
Isn't that enough?
Doesn't true love always prevail?
But like how walking down the stairs takes longer
Than sliding down the rail,
Beauty gives an extra push
In the desired direction
While someone without the push
Fails to win the election.
Why do I not have her traits?
I'm not stunning, I won't amaze you.
Without that, who would ever love
Me, utterly average Nastasia?
