So I was sitting there on one of the last days of my late romantic period literature class and in walks this girl who I had been practically staring at all semester across the circle.  Never really found out her name though, and I suspect she was several years older and several light years out of my league.  But nevertheless, I found her to be highly fascinating, not just because she was pretty, but just because of how she behaved.  And I swear she looked at me more than once, and not just that oh he's sitting over there look, but that oooh he's over there today look.  But anyhow, the point is, that particular day she came in just after the class had begun, and the first thing I remarked to myself was "ah, at last she has arrived."  Consequently, I wrote that down in the margin of my notebook, and all of a sudden the poem started leaping out to me.  I had always noticed that she had this look about her, this almost pained look, as if something wasn't quite right with her life, and I've never been able to figure out how it is exactly pretty girls always manage to look sad (and I bet that's going to come back and bite me in the ass later in life, just you wait.).  So I started imagining perhaps that there was something not quite right with her life, just as there's alot not quite right with my own life, and hence we shared perhaps a common disease of unknown origin.  Nifty, huh?  And as a bonus, one of the few on here that is completely autobiographical and without some sort of alterior purpose for being.  I like.