Friday, January 29, 2010

a softer world 55 word stories part ii: to love is human

we buried truth under playgrounds: Everyone wants to be good. Everyone wants someone to love and to be loved. Everyone wants to give to the poor. Everyone wants to understand Beauty and Truth. But our souls are chock full of tiny pieces of shrapnel and at the end of the day, we're still alone with all the things we've done. 

you might start wearing clothes around the house: I've always been told that true love is kept inside, that if you shout it from the rooftops, she'll shun you and you'll be sorry you ever said anything. But every night, I feel it bubbling inside of me, growing, until I finally feel as though I'll overflow with happiness. "I LOVE YOU!", I explode. 

lullabies at night, george michael in the morning: They're ruthless killers who want our blood. They're psychopaths, not humans. They listen to our every word, record our every thought. But sometimes, when I hear them breathing on the phone, I sing to them because I know they're sad and they're just like us. I know there's still some space in between the shrapnel. 

like on TV: Fifty years ago, when the industrial smog blocked out the sun and they put us all in tall buildings (easier to protect us, they said), birthdays were illegalized. Today, I turn 100 and I don't want a wild night with a virgin. All I want is to jump off the highest building and touch light. 

None of those lines seems to be about you or me. : I've never been a hit with the ladies. I can't get the right words to come out and my tongue refuses to move in the right directions. But today, when I saw you dancing, I knew exactly what to say. None of that clever bullshit. Simple and clean. "You're beautiful. I'd like to kiss you." 

I looked up some good ones! : I'm dissatisfied with my life. I've always been put down by everyone. I'm sick and tired of being treated like shit. I want to live. I want to tell you now that I love you. I want to tell you everything that's been on my mind all these years. I want to. I want you. 

If you like it then you shoulda put a hug on it. : "Hey, you! Yeah, you! You...come...ova...here...mister...I wanna ask ya que...sti...on. Do me a favour, would ya? Yeah. Here's ten bucks. Now, don't fuckin' call me a whore or I'll fuck you up like a ...fuckin' pickle, man. Now give me a hug job, bitch or I'll fuck you up so bad-" 

my last words will be, 'yeah I had that coming.' : When I started puberty, I knew I was different. I wasn't like the other girls. I liked things that could get me in trouble. I kept my secrets until one day, they somehow figured it out. Fuck, it was bad. But then I remembered...we all go to hell. And I intended to deserve it. 

Happy 40th, Stonewall Riots! : When little girls dressed up in princesses, I asked my mother if I should. 'No.' When little girls started liking little boys, I asked my mother if I should. 'No.' When little girls started deciding what they wanted to be, I asked my mother if I should. 'Fuck should. You just go and you live.' 

pain relief: I look through the yellow pages every night and pick names at random. I call from a pay phone and see if anyone picks up. "Hello?" "We know what you did. Don't worry, you aren't alone." Click. Sometimes I wonder if they panic after I hang up but then I remember that misery loves company. 

Orgasms are great, but why skip the sex? : As I was walking, I found the secret of life. When I got to school, Velvet had brought oreo cookies, Thomas told me he loved me, and Joanna gave me that book I've been wanting. I've got a lot of things to do and I'll be busy for a while. I'll look at it later. 

anyway, happy anniversary! : I really hate break-ups. I always seem to mess it up by telling the truth. The thing is, I love them. I really do. But sometimes, love can get so stale after a while and nothing compares to that first giddy rush when you kiss for the first time. Nothing compares to falling in love. 

Oh! Oh man, we should bring an old-timey lantern! : Remember that late night fifteen years ago when we decided to bury our joie de vivre 'cause it was getting to be a bitch? Remember how we were so happy to get rid of it until things started going to hell? You started drinking and she cheated on me. Here. Take a shovel. Let's go.

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