who cares, if for all involved.
Once upon a time, there was a girl. A little girl with cute freckles and ten toes on her feet (five on the left and five on the right one, like everybody else's). All her life she had been told by someone to be hard, to be tough. To be strong. She had taught herself not to cry. She thought she didn't want to be weak, when she really didn't want to disappoint too many expectations. As she started to grow up, not only did she lose her innocent joy in life and the connections to dead people, like most people do, she also grew wiser. She thought a lot about life, and feelings, and grown-up people and their philosophies. Some days she saw things more clearly.
She realized she had to trust. To feel, pain as strong as joy. She would develop addictions to people evoking those feelings in her. She started to write e-mails with one of those addictions. She fell in love with it. For two or three years, they wrote, when they could've talked so easily. Of course, she had other addictions in between, smaller ones, and also a major one, which had seemed healing. Of course, it also had other girls in between. Her best friend. A girl from the train. Whatever. All the time they kept writing. Sometimes, between girls and addictions, the little girl had more hope than at other times, when she felt really desperate. But other people had made her feel desperate as well, right?
Gradually, they also started talking. They had exchanged ("literary") writing from the beginning, that's how it all started. Now they wanted to meet up and write something together.
She had grown used to the addiction, to getting feelings out of it. She preferred them to be good ones, although bad ones were also OK if only for a short while. Anything to fill the void.
So they met at her place... she had finally given up the hope that the addiction could become anything more than that; it was a soothing feeling, a feeling of finality. Relieving. Similar to the good feeling you get out of cleaning up an alp in the Pyrenees.
He started it. He did the transformation from addiction into boy when he put his arm around her, waiting for the lava lamp to warm up. All slowly and gently. After a confused eternity, the little girl took his hand. She accepted without reading the small print. She just wanted someone to hold her, to treat her well.
And he did so, that one night. The next morning he went back home. No good-bye kiss at the train station because mom was driving.
She thought she had some reasons to believe in hope again. She started to feel again, really good feelings, that hadn't been activated for a long time. She had hidden them well under a scar.
For a couple of days, everything seemed fine. Well, not fine, great. She told only her closest friends a little secret... She was very careful. Still, she was betrayed.
After the sort of the relationship was too unclear to continue on and the Simpsons became good company, she called her addiction, and it rejected her. Sort of. It was really lame. He was a coward, and he still is. (Now, that's one thing I can't stand. Neither could she.) He let her ask all the questions, twice. Thrice. (He wouldn't answer right away...) Suddenly it was her fault for not reading the small print. Too bad.
It had just felt so good... the girl had felt so secure in his arms, and her hands fit perfectly in his.
He did not even say good-bye, that day.
Asshole.
I bet he can't even imagine what he'll miss out on.
i'm getting the most beautiful, bestest car for my birthday today (it's supposed to be a surprise. however, it's already happily lounging in the driveway, and i forgot to put away the car key, now it's still in its original hiding place behind the calendar, where i put it so i wouldn't frost it with chocolate, since i was baking birthday muffins). it's blue, atlantisblue, actually (which does not mean there are mermaids and algae painted all over it, unfortunately), and it has two doors in the front so you have to flip over the front seats to get into the back, and no, the key doesn't have a "i-can-open-my-car-with-a-click-while-i'm-still-in-my-bathroom-flossing-my-teeth-so-i-don't-have-to-take-the-time-actually-opening-the-lock"-button. and i lock and unlock both doors separately. hm, no idea bout the trunk. should check that one. and it even has a mirror in the flip down thing in front. which the doblo doesn't have, ha. so, yeah, i'm happy. now the only thing i still have to do is get a driver's license.
1. he doesn't call
2. he doesn't write
3. he'd rather watch a simpsons dvd than talk to you (although i do admit, the simpsons are fun to watch)
4. he doesn't call back
5. he'd rather be reanimating people than go to your birthday party
i don't want to sound superficial or anything, but i probably will... just to say that somehow, make-up can make me really happy. for me that's a weird thing to state, but at least it's not normal make-up. it's super hard to get (at least in austria), which already makes it cool and exclusive, but the make-up texture is better than anything i've ever tried, and there's a much bigger range of colors. and just all of the products! there's a so-called "eye shadow primer potion" for example, which you apply on the eye lids before you put on the eye shadow, it makes the eye shadow last longer, it doesn't crease, and it's even waterproof! cause yesterday i was at something similar to a party at someone's place, and wore the make-up to show it off to my friends, and then we jumped in the pool and it stayed on! i mean, totally! and there's so much glitter! and today i tried out the powder with the puff, and it was just so velvety and soft it just makes me happy. all the colors, names, nice packaging, and sensations of this special brand just make me happy. (it even makes up for part of the stress at work)
... but at least i admit it. i copy maps of the campground, maps of the city it's in, maps of vienna, tickets for the yucky lake, campground information packages in german, english, french, italian, dutch and danish; i copy letters, e-mails and behavior patterns as well as contracts, insurance papers and my best friend's make up brands. i also take over old boyfriends from my other best friend after they've been recycled. somehow i haven't decided if this summer is good or bad... i work at least two jobs at once, but somehow i still manage to have loads of fun. that would make it good...