Author's Note: I've read a few too many sappy angst fics that miss the angst point and just sound silly. They go on and on describing stupid things, like someone's eyes, while nothing really happens. This is my angst parody, written to try to stop the sap. This is dedicated to my little sister, Athena Winner (read her stuff!), who reads those angst fics and laughs at them. Please read and review.
I sighed, staring up at my bedroom ceiling. When would I stop moping like the fool I was? For God's sake, I was lying on carpeting and looking for pictures in the ceiling tiles. Maybe I was going insane. That would certainly explain a lot.
I sighed a second time and rolled over onto my stomach. Making sure no one was near, I shut the door and locked it. With the door ajar, my secret would remain hidden for long. Over to my bed I crept, and pulled a thick notebook from under the mattress. Still making sure that no one was spying on me, I slowly opened it.
This adored, well-worn, dog-eared, blue notebook was my portable shrine. I had glued in at least 150 pictures and written twice as many poems to my secret love. Flip, flip, flop, flip went the sheets within as I slowly paged through my years of devotion. The poetry I had written so long ago was horrible (as were the recent odes), but I enjoyed watching my beloved's pictures mature. I grabbed for my scissors and glue. I had a new picture to add in.
It was a wonderful picture of him. I had found it in a magazine recently. My beloved, now a famous and talented professional soccer player, was standing in the middle of the soccer field where his team won the World Cup. He held a soccer ball with one arm and waved frantically at the camera with the other. As usual, his face was screwed up into that trademark insanely big grin of his. I glued it onto the last page. Every page had now been filled except for the front page, which I was saving for something special.
Closing the book, I decided to end my worshipping for the day with my favourite picture of him. I kept it in a locket that I wore around my neck. He gave it to me years ago with a picture of his face inside. I don't know why he'd given it to me in the first place; he knew as well as I that I would most likely never wear it, as lockets weren't really my kind of thing. I dropped it in a drawer and forgot about it, but now I wear it every day.
I unclasped the golden chain from around my neck and opened up the large golden heart. It was a bit tacky looking in public and was dented and chipped in some places, so I wore it under my shirt. However, in private, it was the most beautiful piece of jewelry I could ever hope to own, simply because he gave it to me. I often thought when I was alone that there was nothing more elegant than this large golden (though with little actual gold) heart and nothing more charming than its little bumps and dents. The only bit that bothered me was that there was a name on the back--his sister's name--so I often wondered what he had to do to get it from her.
Inside was a picture of my secret love, the original picture from those years so long ago when we were twelve. For once he was smiling normally, rather than the infamous village idiot's grin he usually wore. His eyes were opened very wide, yet he did not look skittish or surprised. The irises were such a dark, entrancing colour, like melted chocolate on saucers of the purest white. I loved looking at those marble like orbs that burned from the inside with a shadowy fire, imagining them to be pools of mud that I could jump in and cover myself with.
After gazing deeply (or as deeply as one can look at a picture, anyway) at his lucious, luminous eyes for a while, I moved on to his hair. As large as the locket was, not all of his hair fit in the picture. It didn't matter, though; I still remembered exactly what it had looked like before he had it cut and could picture it perfectly in my mind. My finger lazily traced his outline while I sighed a third time, just for good measure.
It wasn't fair, not even a tiny little bit. I was worshipping a guy who would never be mine. For God's sake, he was gay! Recently, he had come out and announced to the world and Entertainment Weekly magazine that he was gay. He presented his boyfriend to the world around the same time, though a little bit after. Ironically enough, his boyfriend was the 'blonde beauty' (as People Magazine had put it) who all our friends expected ME to hook up with.I had never considered my beloved's boyfriend as anything more than a brother, but Mimi had 'accidentally' started some rumours about us, and so it had been expected of us to marry and have so many children that we'd have to call pest control.
Suddenly, I knew how those cartoon characters like Bugs Bunny and such feel when the little light bulb goes on above their heads. The perfect way to fill the front page of my notebook came to me. I grabbed my pen and began to scrawl thoughts and phrases onto scrap paper. Finally, I had notebook acceptable work. Using the best handwriting I could muster up, I copied the newest addition into the shrine.
"O, my beloved, how I wished you knew
How much I truly care; I swear I truly do.
You'll never be mine; this much I know as true,
But please just let me say this: I love you.
To my one and only beloved, Davis
Love,
Kari"
I smiled, closed the book, and hugged it to my chest. Of course, I also sighed. If only he were mine...
~*~
Sooooo....Did I confuse you? Did you think this was a one sided Taiora? I hope so. Please review. If you review, then I'll worhip you and love you in a platonic sense. And I know how much you guys want my love (and possibly reviews from me...Hmm...). Hint: REVIEW.
I sighed, staring up at my bedroom ceiling. When would I stop moping like the fool I was? For God's sake, I was lying on carpeting and looking for pictures in the ceiling tiles. Maybe I was going insane. That would certainly explain a lot.
I sighed a second time and rolled over onto my stomach. Making sure no one was near, I shut the door and locked it. With the door ajar, my secret would remain hidden for long. Over to my bed I crept, and pulled a thick notebook from under the mattress. Still making sure that no one was spying on me, I slowly opened it.
This adored, well-worn, dog-eared, blue notebook was my portable shrine. I had glued in at least 150 pictures and written twice as many poems to my secret love. Flip, flip, flop, flip went the sheets within as I slowly paged through my years of devotion. The poetry I had written so long ago was horrible (as were the recent odes), but I enjoyed watching my beloved's pictures mature. I grabbed for my scissors and glue. I had a new picture to add in.
It was a wonderful picture of him. I had found it in a magazine recently. My beloved, now a famous and talented professional soccer player, was standing in the middle of the soccer field where his team won the World Cup. He held a soccer ball with one arm and waved frantically at the camera with the other. As usual, his face was screwed up into that trademark insanely big grin of his. I glued it onto the last page. Every page had now been filled except for the front page, which I was saving for something special.
Closing the book, I decided to end my worshipping for the day with my favourite picture of him. I kept it in a locket that I wore around my neck. He gave it to me years ago with a picture of his face inside. I don't know why he'd given it to me in the first place; he knew as well as I that I would most likely never wear it, as lockets weren't really my kind of thing. I dropped it in a drawer and forgot about it, but now I wear it every day.
I unclasped the golden chain from around my neck and opened up the large golden heart. It was a bit tacky looking in public and was dented and chipped in some places, so I wore it under my shirt. However, in private, it was the most beautiful piece of jewelry I could ever hope to own, simply because he gave it to me. I often thought when I was alone that there was nothing more elegant than this large golden (though with little actual gold) heart and nothing more charming than its little bumps and dents. The only bit that bothered me was that there was a name on the back--his sister's name--so I often wondered what he had to do to get it from her.
Inside was a picture of my secret love, the original picture from those years so long ago when we were twelve. For once he was smiling normally, rather than the infamous village idiot's grin he usually wore. His eyes were opened very wide, yet he did not look skittish or surprised. The irises were such a dark, entrancing colour, like melted chocolate on saucers of the purest white. I loved looking at those marble like orbs that burned from the inside with a shadowy fire, imagining them to be pools of mud that I could jump in and cover myself with.
After gazing deeply (or as deeply as one can look at a picture, anyway) at his lucious, luminous eyes for a while, I moved on to his hair. As large as the locket was, not all of his hair fit in the picture. It didn't matter, though; I still remembered exactly what it had looked like before he had it cut and could picture it perfectly in my mind. My finger lazily traced his outline while I sighed a third time, just for good measure.
It wasn't fair, not even a tiny little bit. I was worshipping a guy who would never be mine. For God's sake, he was gay! Recently, he had come out and announced to the world and Entertainment Weekly magazine that he was gay. He presented his boyfriend to the world around the same time, though a little bit after. Ironically enough, his boyfriend was the 'blonde beauty' (as People Magazine had put it) who all our friends expected ME to hook up with.I had never considered my beloved's boyfriend as anything more than a brother, but Mimi had 'accidentally' started some rumours about us, and so it had been expected of us to marry and have so many children that we'd have to call pest control.
Suddenly, I knew how those cartoon characters like Bugs Bunny and such feel when the little light bulb goes on above their heads. The perfect way to fill the front page of my notebook came to me. I grabbed my pen and began to scrawl thoughts and phrases onto scrap paper. Finally, I had notebook acceptable work. Using the best handwriting I could muster up, I copied the newest addition into the shrine.
"O, my beloved, how I wished you knew
How much I truly care; I swear I truly do.
You'll never be mine; this much I know as true,
But please just let me say this: I love you.
To my one and only beloved, Davis
Love,
Kari"
I smiled, closed the book, and hugged it to my chest. Of course, I also sighed. If only he were mine...
~*~
Sooooo....Did I confuse you? Did you think this was a one sided Taiora? I hope so. Please review. If you review, then I'll worhip you and love you in a platonic sense. And I know how much you guys want my love (and possibly reviews from me...Hmm...). Hint: REVIEW.