(Not so) bright eyes

I've been listening to the Bright Eyes song, "First Day of My Life." It's a touching, finger-picking love song with Conor Oberst's warbling croon and jangling guitar. But there's one line that really strikes me. It's when he says,

Besides maybe this time is different
I mean I really think you'll like me.

It's effectively the last line of the song, and it sneaks in like a sucker punch to remind you that anything real or sincere in life is the exception. In that word, "Maybe," you're reminded that there's an implicit other half of the statement: maybe this time is just like every other time, and you won't like me. He can't write a love song with a straight face. He has to give a nod to brutal, harsh reality.

Welcome to the brave new world we've created. We can't grin at love without winking at rejection. And we undercut ourselves and write our second-rate love songs, and we'll whistle along, all the while knowing that we live in a world that we've given up on.

It's a peculiar nihilism.