Beautiful Disaster

"guys don't come with instruction manuals: a short story."

sitting in his room tonight, there is light and there are words and music and i am sort of cold but i don't want to complain, and i think i have found the person who i was supposed to find and i hope he feels the same way. then he says he wants to tell me something. and i let him, and then he looks at me with his eyes and i can see inside of him, expecting something deep and passionate to explode out of him.

he says-

"when we first met, you were a terrible kisser" (the heck i'm not! you dont know how to kiss)

i go home; the lights shut off.i go back inside my shell. i am still there looking at him but now i feel like an old newspaper that you potty train dogs with. maybe i will go and try to look for a book that says "the instruction manual for everything, ever," written on the front.

i am sorry things were not programmed into me like they were programmed into your cable box, honey.

i hear they have mail-order brides in thailand, maybe you should try that sometime.

if you don't want me, you can let me go.

and then he tries to make it seem like i should sit there and smile, like everything is alright, meanwhile i am searching for something to make him mad and i can think of a few things, but do i want to lower myself to that level? yes. i do. but not right at this moment. i will wait for another day, another time and another place when i feel he is most vulnerable, and i will say something to him. every so often i come out of my universe to see what the world is like, and i find many times that i have to go back in right away.

thanks for the inspiration to write this, you know who you are.

posted by Bianca Alexi @ 10:15 AM