Sometimes I find myself wishing that life were just a big painting. That when we wanted to name a child we could name it something beautiful- like the color of the candle sitting on my dresser. Unfortunately as beautiful as the color is, naming my child Brown sugar and fig- isn't. I wish I could just say what I wanted to say- that a flow of pictures would come unraveling out of my mouth like the movie films that they used to have. They'd sparkle and the little squares would move around as the people inside them would dance in orange and yellow leaves scarves spinning in the wind. Maybe that's my problem… I can't express myself as well as I wish I could. If I love someone I want to sing and shout but what I want to sing and shout aren't words or songs. They're an emotion. They say that art is a way of expressing your emotion. They lie. You can't put an image to an emotion.
Sorry.
The day is July 14, it is a Monday. I sit here twiddling my thumbs waiting for my phone to ring- for her to call. I know she won't. I told her she shouldn't. And if she does- I won't answer. Still though, I wait. I sit here and I wait as the clouds roll by and drops of rain hit the window pane from the big gray sky all the way to my little cottage. The window seat is far too bright for me. The colors overwhelm me as I sit here and I wait. My phone sits next to me, well aware of the task I ask it to perform. It must ring, and ring and ring. And then pop- to the voicemail where I will sit here and cry gracefully as I realize what I've ruined. Holding my head in my elbows with my knees tucked up and I lean against the window pane as the rain falls down. I have it all worked out. It shall be a lovely sad day here, beautiful and moving for any neighbor who watches the scene.
The beige walls threaten to overthrow my little window seat. I understand them though. I can relate. They feel threatened by such bright bright warm colors and they dull in comparison to them- they are not nearly as beautiful as them and they cannot hope to be as brilliant or embroidered as my throw pillow. How sad I think they must be to watch people everyday hug that pillow, to fall in love as they sit on this very window seat and giggle and stare at each other. Not that anyone has fallen in love here granted- but if and when they do, the walls shall be very sad. How awfully lonely to be a beige wall. How terribly insecure I would feel. Not that I don't already- considering that the phone has yet to ring.
Oh yes, I know I said I'd never speak to her again, and I won't. But it doesn't make a girl feel any better to know that they won't at least try to call you. And when they do you'd cry gracefully say to yourself, "Self, this is for the best. Now you shant spend any more time like this. It's over, this girl is no longer your best friend and for good reason to, she'll never deserve you. How absolutely terrible of her to think that you-I'd- be wiling to back down on my stance against her. She ruins our relationship and expects me to just come back to her and wait around for her. No." And I'd wipe away my tears with a little sniffle and get up. But I can't do that yet, I still have to wait for her to call me. How awfully like my beige walls I feel. I think I understand now how they must feel. How terrible.
The phone still doesn't ring. And I still sit here and aknowledge the fact that I am terribly awfully like my walls. The rain reminds me of crying, but I can't cry yet because I have to wait for my voicemail to kick in. Oh how I wish I could just cry to get it over with but patience is a virtue. I'll sit here all day if I must. Yes, I will. I don't especially like mondays, they always seem to be revolting against the rest of the week. Never ever do they listen to you, and they always leave the cap off the toothpaste. Mondays remind me of men. Well of course they would if I had one at the moment. I'm between boyfriends. My last one reminded me too much of squash. All squishy and odd, always sitting like a girl. And they taste alright if you manage to mask they're taste with ranch and such. But on an everyday basis he was still squash. Squash can never aspire to be more than squash. They are really quite like my walls. I suppose my walls must rather like knowing that they are not alone. Perhaps they are not so terribly terribly lonely, but were I a beige wall I think it would be just awful awful awful to know that it was like my last boyfriend. Beige walls are probably quite condescending toward vegetables. Why vegetables don't even have seeds. And were they to ever get into a fight with one of my walls- surely the wall knows that it would squish and break and become mush within seconds. Beige walls are quite proud of the fact that they are better than vegetables. They haven't much to be proud of, of course, so they take what they'll get.
The phone gives a little jump and with it I do too. My musings on the debates of walls and squash stop as I sit here and prepare myself for my dramatic break down. It rings and the little nightstand it sits on shakes a little- I forgot to fix the left leg of it and now I regret it. I was all prepared for this moment and yet I forgot something so simple. This could shatter my whole plan. I jump up from my window seat to grab the phonebook on the nightstand and stick it underneath it's left leg. Oh bugger! How stupid of me. How stupid stupid stupid can I possibly be. "Gah!" I shout a little as the phone rings and I realize that I've just blown my entire plan. Ghastly little fickle thing that it was. I sigh and I get up. Oh well- for another day. I leave my ringing phone and I go get a bag of chips and the TV remote.
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next chappie will be more progressive ;)
REVIEW PLEASE!!
toodles-xoxo
Lauryn