Don't Cry Butterfly - Fiction

I didn’t care. Really, and truly, if you had asked if I cared, I might have said “Do what you want; I’m not your Boy Scout leader. I don’t care”. And maybe, maybe you would have gently pulled my face up to yours and read the lie that was plainly written all over my face. And maybe you would have been able to see the heart wrenching pain in my eyes; bursting with tears that refused to be shed. And maybe you would have said “Butterfly, don’t cry I will always be there. I promise.” And lift me up so I could kiss you, because, of course, I can’t reach all the way up those basketball legs. The kiss would be brief and sweet, your way of reassuring me that all would be right in the world. You’ll see.

Of course, you didn’t do any of those things before you went off to “serve your country” and “be a man” and give everyone “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” But what about my happiness? What about that? Didn’t that matter to you at all? But I suppose that I should try to be fair. You did write a note to me. It has a lot of letters from the alphabet that piece together a message about why you did this. But I don’t care about that part- I care about the part that reads “I love you; you are my angel from heaven above.”

And the part about this that makes me want to hide from my grief and pain, is how I’ll never get to say it back to you.

Sadness...

Sadness is a ghost,
A lingering spirit never to leave,
Hanging around your whole body,
Swallowing you whole just like when,
At night, you let the pitch-black air cover you in a blanket,
So you can dream about how you wish things were,
How things could have been,
And when you wake up, it just makes your illness that much worse.

Sadness is a way of life,
A disease spread by just a simple look,
Or a conversation,
Or when you notice someone's secret tears,
It eats away at you,
Until you're in pieces,
Shattered in the dark,
And you're digging around in the past,
Trying to put yourself back together,
But the infection is already in your veins,
And no matter the time that goes by,
It's incurable,
And it never leaves.

Sadness is your lost memories,
Distracted and confused,
You miss the good times,
And you can't get them back,
Sadness is the necklace Mama gave you,
That fell off and is lost,
Carrying with it a sort of medicine,
Temporary, but numbed your disease,
And now it's gone,
Like the snowman you made with Daddy,
That melted away on the approach of spring one night,
And with the now liquid snow came your remembrance
Of Daddy's deep chuckle when the deer ate its apple eyes,
And his hands on yours, helping you form its body.

Yes, memories melt away, just like that snowman,
And yes, memories fall off, just like your necklace,
But sadness never does,
It hangs above your head,
And when you start to forget about it,
You breath it in, inhale it,
And once again
You are haunted.

Shitty Mascara - Short American Style Fiction (Lot's of research on the Americanisms)

I wipe at my stupid eyes with the back of my hand, and it startles me for a second that my tears are gray. I dunno why it surprised me; I mean, I buy the s***ty mascara that’s $1.99 in the 20 Items or Less checkout lane. Why spend oodles of green on something I hardly ever use?

I just wanted to look nice, you know? Like those girls who’re just naturally fake pretty. The girls who can blend shades of eyeshadow like no one’s business, and match their lipstick to the exact color of their toenail polish or whatever. Seemingly effortless, yet impeccably coordinated.

This is good stuff, I should write for a living – solely on the subject of beauty queens with superiority complexes, of course.

I just want … God, what do I want? I want to feel the sun on my face and paint the clouds and hear the music in the trees and love myself and love someone else and just feel perpetually beautiful.

But that requires the $14.99 waterproof, fire-retardant, Grade-5-hurricane-resistant mascara, not the tube that’s two bucks in Lane 4.

My shoes are dirty and outdated, but that’s how I like them. I like these shoes. They’re comfortable. Why do I need new, expensive, fashionably appealing shoes in order for someone to say, “Hey dogg, you look nice today”?

And why is it that whenever I get deathly bored and slather cheap, pore-clogging makeup all over my face everyone suddenly says, “Wow, you look pretty!”? Since when is “pretty” about whale blubber and cocoa butter?

I’ll tell you one thing, though. I most definitely am not crying about some stupid XY.

Definitely not.

I’m crying for all the whales that have to give up their fatty insulation so that some fugly anorexic super bitch can paint herself pretty every freaking day, giving him something halfway decent to oggle all the time.

Seriously, I’m not leaking saltwater over a guy.

I just think it’s cruel and unfair that the fat-endowed marine life population doesn’t even get the slightest warning that they’ll soon be on a cosmetics endcap at K-Mart.

He could have at least broken it to me gently, you know? We’ve been friends since the George Bush/Al Gore debacle.

I mean come the Bette Midler on.

I spill my blood, guts, and viscera out to this guy and he throws down the “Let’s just be friends” card without a second thought?

It’s just … it’s common courtesy to ease someone into heartbreak, not smash it over their head like a whiffleball bat.

You know what? I’m going to take my $1.99 checkout Lane 4 mascara and chuck it right at her big, stupid square head.

Dear Tommy...

I'm in love with you, everything about you. Even the things that you don't notice about yourself. You're perfect for me, you're far more than I deserve. You're my soul mate, my other half. You're my best friend and my lover neatly wrapped into one gorgeous parcel. I'd lose everything if I lost you. I want to be the one to tell you that I love you everyday, and when we're older I want to be the one to have your name, to fall asleep with you everynight. I never have to worry about how I look when we're together although I do try to look pretty for you. I love falling asleep when we're having a cuddle, I love waking up and seeing your face. You said you loved me in your slept and I smiled all morning. My feelings for you are eternal and they'll never fade away. I love you with everything I have and you are my entire worldI'm so lucky to have found you and I'm sorry for all the bad things. I want to be your future, I want you to be mine. I can make you a promise that I will always keep and it's that my love for you is undying. Whenever you need me, I'll be there for you. Whatever choices you make in life, I will support you. I understand you. You make me laugh, smile, cry, think, dream..and everything else that a person needs. When I'm sad, you make me happy. When I'm happy it's because I have YOU. You're my life, my only priority. You are all I'll ever want. I want to hold hands for no reason, cuddle with you, kiss you, hold you, make you laugh and smile. I Love You x x x

Our Love Will Be Forever, And If We Die We Die Together.

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow never comes.

I miss my family on days like Today.
It's just been Easter Sunday. 
Now it's bank holiday Monday.
Tomorrow, I'll see my man. I love it when it's Tuesday.
We've been together 8 months this Wednesday.
I guess I'm not too keen on Thursday.
But everyone loves a Friday.
And the Weekend, Saturday.
A whole week has past, and again, it's Sunday.
I miss my family...on days like Today.