silly little faerie

The Faerie sits quietly and waits for something; although she knows not what. Her eyes water slightly from lonliness. A bitter fascination passes across her dreamy eyelids and they fall heavier from the lack of sleep. She doesn't press nor does she call to him...only waits. Her red locks glisten under the moonlight much like her first freshly fallen tear. The rebellious fluid drops from her lashes and rolls down her smoothe cheek. She lifts her hand to wipe it away but another hand removes it for her. She gasps, drawn aback by the sudden intrusion of her space. Her heart races and her hands fly up to sheild her from her intruder. The shadows swallow the limb as it withdraws carrying her stolen sadness. Spirit shudders wide-eyed, as she scans her familiar darkness. The figure materializes from the depths of her dreams and smiles. Spirit, recognizing the entity smiles back and opens her arms.

"You've come."....she whispers shaking faerie dust all around her. The little faerie stands and jumps into his arms...wings all a-flutter.

Nothing to do but listen to your friends talk about you behind your back in fron of you....priceless.

I am on the verge of screaming right now. It is nice to see my friends always know what is best for me. Guess I am not being very appreciative and I am sorry. Sometimes it would just be nice to be able to make a decision on my own. You know, like having a drink, doing nothing all day one day...oh yeah, I do that most days...sorry.

Today it is cold outside and I am mad...not a good combination. This is when I want to go to bed and let the thoughts just soak into my brain so that they will be there for me to sort through later, later in the morning. I am a cry baby, and I just met a bigger baby than me....hmmmm interesting, I thought they put people like us to sleep. That is ok though, cuz crying is good somethimes. But the cold; that is never good. It hurts my bones.

So, it is another Sunday of the same sands of time piled in the sandbox outside. Neglected, rejected and left to blow away in the wind. Of course my friends could tell me what to use the sand for...they know everything.

The rain; I hate it. It falls down cold and unknowing upon my weary brow. I yearn to feel the sun, fore it is better with its caresses. I do not wish to know the rain for what it feels. I could care less. when it hits my roof and trickles down through cracks and unnatural openings; hitting my head, it is untolerable. Buckets greet these greedy drops and welcomes their death...until millions of drops revive themselves wishing to soon overtake me in an ocean of grief. I hate you. I hate you with a passion. But I hate you more when the temperature drops to be merciless. You return to fall upon me and chill my bones. You coax my inner organs to convulse with temporary disease. The rain; I know it hates me. Why? Because I first hated it.