For why must I wait for him, just him to arrive into my life? I sit, waiting for my answer to come to me. Would I look better straight or curly? Skinny or fat? Will I have my true love if I was different? All questions go through my head, why won’t he come, into my loving, open arms? Is it me or him? My apperance or personality? So as the day goes through it’s normal cycle, I sit and wait for my true love to sweep me up onto my feet and allow me to be myself, and to feel beautiful and special, the way I am.