Sinead O’Connor – Nothing Compares To You (1990)
I was 17, he was 21.
I was madly, insanely, hopelessly in love with him.
I thought he was too.
We slow danced to this song in our local nightclub after he told me he was leaving to work on a building site in Belgium. (yes! fucking Belgium! The dullest fucking country known in existence! He left me for fucking Belgium! Um… Apologies to any Belgian readers…)
I remember my arms around his waist, (me:5′, him:5’11”), my tears soaking into his shirt. The lyrics summed up how I knew I would feel once he had left. So, I clung to him as we danced, savouring the feeling of his arms around me, the scent of him, the warmth of his flat torso.
He left the morning of my art exam for my Leaving Certificate, (think A-levels/High School Diploma).
I ran to the train station in my school uniform to see him off… He was there in his faded jeans, leather jacket and cowboy boots, long blond curls glowing in the sunlight, his backpack resting on the ground between his knees.
The fucker got on that train without a second glance back… I went back to my exam, face puffy from crying…
I got over him. With a little help from his very, very hot best friend! 😈
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