Eeyore

What if everything she ever believed in was nothing but a pretty lie? What if everything she ever felt amounted to absolutely nothing? The book was clenched in her hands so tightly, her knuckles were slowly turning from a violent red to an ashen white. What does the ending mean? Smeared by countless nights of tears, she could barely read the words anymore, but she knew them by heart. It was a story she read again and again, but the ending was never the same. It changed with every day, every hour, every second. It will never be over. The story is never going to end.

I hope you brought an umbrella, baby girl, because your world is about to come crashing down. Again.

The Importance Of One Second

And just like that, it was all taken away from her.

Disguise a broken heart as best you can. You'll learn you can fool everyone but yourself.

Remember Those Intricate Stories Of Boys Asking Girls To Prom? I Promise, Mine Is Much Better

She got into her car and turned the key in the ignition. Her windows were already rolled down from the previous drive; ah, to live in suburbia during the summertime. She was halfway home when something white on the floor caught the corner of her eye. She waited impatiently until she pulled into her driveway to see what it was. She turned the car off. "Well, I trip over everything you say" still screaming through the stereo. It's as if he had planned it that way. It was a package, wrapped in newspaper, secretly slipped through the passenger window. Tearing the newspaper open, she found the most beautiful painting of a rose gently sitting atop sheets of music drenched in the most heart throbbing golden yellow her eyes had ever witnessed. The gorgeous rage that was occurring in her heart was inexplicable and her smile was uncontrollable. She could no longer feel her feet on the ground, and she didn't mind a bit. Her mother had always said, "Fall for a boy who can sweep you off your feet" This is, without question, the happiest she had ever been. She was falling for a boy who was falling for her. Staring at the painting, now framed above her bed, she can smile. This is what it feels like to be that happy again. Hold onto it this time, kid.

Just be happy with what you have.

Forgiveness Is Pertinent In Matters Of The Heart

It was one of those cloudless sunny days. And the sky was such a magnificent shade of blue, that staring up at its euphonic beauty almost made you dizzy. They were swinging on that weathered, wooden bench; their feet dragging endlessly in the water lapping up against the shore. The sounds of summer were intoxicating her eardrums; the incessant creaking of the swing, the wind making its way across the pond and the steady beating of their hearts. She was upset, but couldn't remember why. She was always doing this. Without looking at her, he sensed the sadness welling up in her eyes, "Does the good outweigh the bad?" He cared - it was like a beautifully broken record, he always had and always would - so why did she continuously scramble to find fault in him? He cared and that should have been enough. He cared. She turned to him and smiled, "Yes" Years later, she would recall this memory and realize that not everything is as bad as it seems. She had wasted so much of her life being unsatisfied with something perfect. A lesson had been learned. He loved her and she loved him. What else mattered?

Nothing is unforgivable, love.

I Would Use The Word 'Madly' Again If I Could

It was as if God wanted to give her hope, or destroy her. She was having trouble determining which made more sense. But, as with other things, she knew. There was just a questioning passion about her. Why must she always question everything? In the back of her mind she could hear the priest, in his bland voice, explaining the truth about love. But she already knew. "The purest definition of love is making someone else's feelings more important than your own. It is the pain you feel when they are not happy, and the joy you feel when they are. The truth about love is sacrifice. Sacrificing everything you have for the good of the other person" She had been trying to trip herself. But the more she tried, the more evident the truth was.

There is no falling out of love.

Everything I Have Done Up Until This Point

It doesn't happen often, but when it does, she remembers that night. She was never good at expressing herself when she was distant from him. She felt it was necessary to look into his quiet brown eyes to understand his heart. "Please, just show me how you feel", she would plead with them. That night, they kept saying the words over and over, but nothing was being accomplished. In tears, she asked him to wait. Quickly, she grabbed her keys and ran into the rain to her car. It was five in the morning. She couldn't make him hurt this bad, she had to show him with her eyes. He was standing in the driveway when her tires splashed across the asphalt. She got out of the car, leaving the door ajar, and walked right up, close enough to touch him. It smelled like summer, with the sharp hint of new tears. "Please forgive me", was all she spoke. He could see the evident pain in her eyes and knew that she had never meant to hurt him. It was almost funny how things such as this were so important to her. She was just standing there, her tears beautifully distinct from the raindrops that streamed across her face. He grabbed her and held onto her tightly. She could smile again.

I could never fight with you. You are always right.

I Gave You The Only Copy I Ever Had Of The Poem I Wrote For You. Now I'm The Only One Growing Old With Memory.

How long had it been there? Every last one of her secrets compressed under the springs of a mattress. She opened the notebook and felt an immediate sense of nostalgia. How could it be that she was this happy such a short time ago? Before closing it (and vowing to never open it again for fear of reopening the fresh wounds lining her heart) she saw a sliver of blue peering out between the white pages, lined in blue. She pulled the scrap of blue paper out, confused. She had no recollection of writing the words, but it was her handwriting and most absolutely her memories; exactly as she saw it in her head every morning: "I remember three things from that car ride. Kissing the clock for the first time at 11:11 for the only reason I've been kissing it since, best friends means friends forever and never hurting to kiss someone so badly in my life"

I'm sorry that my teardrop smeared the last few words. But you know what they said.