Pressing FlowersA Story by Katie MarieLiterally just four pages describing things I love.I like the sound of the jug boiling, because it means my tea or coffee’s almost here. I like the way the milk swirls as I pour it in. I like to sit on my balcony, using my lap as a table for my mug and my lighter, and I like the sound the cigarette makes as I take a heavy drag. I like that when it’s light out, my backyard looks like a farm, and when it’s dark, it looks like a lake with a town on the other side. I like sitting on my bedroom floor with a ring of candles around me, because they glow when the lamp only blinds me. I like music that doesn’t really make sense, and I like it loud, but not too loud that I can’t hear myself think. I like to hear myself think, because there’s a lot going on up there. I like to drink wine when nobody’s home, and sit in the shower playing with suds. I like to drink beer in the afternoon, with a lemon wedged in the bottle. I like to smoke, but I don’t like the smell it leaves on my right hand, or the back of my tongue. I like to imagine that everything’s dancing. Dust in the afternoon sun, the flame of a candle and how it flickers. Incense smoke, any kind of smoke, especially in my bedroom when nobody else is home. Hair in the wind, dresses in the wind. I like the beach at night and the way it goes on forever. I like to walk and watch the sunset until I can’t see anything but the moon, and I like it when I realise I don’t know how to get back again. I like watching groups of friends, and seeing how the act with one another. I like to see them laugh, and I like to see them talk about something serious. They’re eyes grow wider, and there’s less to word. I like watching people read, it’s like seeing them in another world. They’re lost, and every now and then, you catch them smile, or hold their breath. And more often, you see their sadness when something they don’t like happens to the character they relate to most. I like it when people talk about the things they’re most passionate about. Like when my friend talks about photography, or when another talks about cats. I like the way my friend looks when she talks about her boyfriend, like everything in her lights up. But she’s childish, like a kid with a new toy. But they like this toy, and there’s not a doubt in their mind that they’re going to love that toy for a very long time. I like the taste of cinnamon, and if I could eat it with a spoon and not choke, I’d like that very much too. I like that no one else loves it as much as I do, but someone, somewhere liked it enough to make incense, chewing gum, candles, a car air freshener, and probably a lot of things I haven’t found yet. But I like that I have to look. I like rosary beads, on naked woman, or hanging on the wall, but I don’t much like them for what they’re really for. I like blueberries. Blueberry pancakes, blueberry wine, fresh blueberries, blueberry pie. Blueberry white tea, and I especially like the bottle it comes in. I like blueberries. Sour, powdery, however they come. And I like watermelon. Watermelon smoothies, watermelon juice, the way it looks when I cut it, but nobody else. Artificial watermelon, lollipops, hard boiled lollies, chewing gum. You name it, if it’s got something to do with watermelon, I’ll like it. I like the sound of wind chimes at three in the morning when everything else is silent. I like a******s, and people who talk about anything. Speak to me without thinking about what you’re about to say, and I think we’ll get along just fine. I like that my house doesn’t have proper air conditioning and instead only has two pipes sticking through a wooden board in the window, and I like standing in front of it when I’m dripping wet from the shower. I like to pretend that my dogs are little hairy babies, but I don’t like it much when they bite my face for harassing them while they’re trying to nap. I like that my mum wears tie dye, and flared sweat pants. Because I like that my mum doesn’t wear those really terrible clothes that most middle aged woman wear. And I like that she had grey hair, but I don’t like it much with a fringe. I like the underdog of anything, because I am the underdog. I like movies with stupid storylines and main characters who are sarcastic pricks, because I like to not be the only one bitter and making jokes. I still like the things I liked as a kid, because I can’t seem to let them go. The movies, the celebrities, the dolls and the lies my mum told. I like to believe in things that I know aren’t true. Like when I was little and my friend died, my mum told me that when people die, they’re faces become stars. I searched the stars every night looking for my friend, and my mum never had the heart to tell me it wasn’t true. But I still believe in it now, and occasionally I catch myself looking for her face, because I like that idea more than the science of the stars. I like watching candles burn, and I like not cleaning up the mess, because I think the way the wax fell could be art. I like things that look cheap and stupid, that’s why I spend so often in two dollar shops. I like the idea that I’ll spend my life in cheap apartments smoking and drinking beer, and I like that I can see my friends joining me. I like buying coffee from the same place every morning, because I like thinking that everyday, my face gets a little more familiar to the staff, and one day, in the future, they might think ‘hey, remember that girl who came in every morning, ordered a large skinny cappuccino and cinnamon scone? She always smelt like vanilla and tobacco, and she almost always stuttered and dropped a coin’ . I hated my high school experience, but I like that it happened, because I think it makes me kind of interesting. I like buying the same bottled water every time, because it’s the only bottle that isn’t circular, and I think it’s cool that it’s different. I like olives, but I don’t like to admit it, because I spent so long telling my parents they were disgusting. I like mustard coloured clothes, but I don’t like to admit that either, because I made a lot of jokes about my friend’s jeans and how they made him look like a fast food meal. I don’t like talking in car rides, I like listening to really loud music and staring out the window, and at night, when there’s no one on the highway behind my house, I like to get in the car with my friends, and drive as fast as the car can take us, and push my hand out into the air, because it feels like I’m touching a b**b. I like the word b***s, I don’t like tits, it sounds too rude, and I don’t like breasts, it sounds too formal. I just like the word b***s. I like it when people drive past and honk their horn, or when people walk past and say something derogatory, but I won’t admit it, and I probably won’t even smile until no one can see me. I like people who make me feel comfortable straight away. Like the drunk guy who sat on my lap when I’d only known him for about two minutes, or my best friend before she was my best friend when she invited me to her house to drink when I’d only known her about a week. I like getting things in the mail, unless it’s from my nana, then I wish my mail box would set on fire before I got to it. I like my shorts that everyone says look like granny undies, because they really do look like granny undies. I like clothes that aren’t very pretty, because someone needs to wear them, and I’m happy to be that person. I like going into shops looking really innocent, and leaving with a bag full of jewellery, clothes, really anything I couldn’t be bothered to buy. And I like that no one expects it of me. I like baking cakes and writing stupid things on them in pretty, eatable cursive. I like quotes and song lyrics, but not in a fifteen year old girl kind of way. I like them because I like to write, and my typewriter is my best friend. We only ever fight when the ink runs out. I like that my dog’s albino, and she kind of looks like a hairy pink fairy, but she barks every time someone comes to the door, thinking that she could save us if it was a murderer, but really, she’d probably only manage to sprinkle fairy dust and make us hit the roof. I like white walls with picture frames and paintings. I like it when things look like a mess, like every frame is supposed to be a little bit crooked, and my bed is supposed to be unmade, and my pillow case is really a flannel shirt that I buttoned over it because I was too lazy to find an actual cover. I like the ridiculous amount of incense dust floating around my room, and the clumps of candle wax I haven’t been able to scrape off the floor. I like that my floor looks like a cork board, and is the only room in the house that doesn’t have carpet and pee stains. I liked it when my roof leaked in a hail storm and the stain looked like the profile of a girl’s face. She was a pretty girl. I like falling in love with fictional characters, even if they can’t reciprocate. I like watching movies and there’s a kiss, and you can see it’s more than just acting. There’s tongues, there’s passion, and there’s a whole lot of rubbing. I think every kiss should be so passionate. I like being unexpected, doing the complete opposite to what people expect of me. But most of the time, I like to keep it a secret, because it’s bigger and better that way. So that one day, far from now, I can tell them and they’ll freak out. I guess I just like to make people think. Whether it’s making them angry, uncomfortable, shocked, or even just making them laugh. I like that. I like driving around without a plan, so long as I have cigarettes and a late curfew. I like going to people’s houses where you can walk around by yourself and feel completely comfortable, and I especially like my best friend’s house. I can smoke, I can make fairy bread while she’s in the bathroom. I can walk in without knocking and say hello to her mum, and I just like her parents. Scottish families are funny families, or at least they look like it on the outside. I like talking to people after eleven o’clock, there’s something about the night that makes people more honest. Like that night I sat outside for hours talking to the girl I liked about the things we loved. We smoked, and we talked about the stars. I like the way I look in red. I like the way my cat looks when he sleeps, and the little smile he gets when I scratch his head. I like patterned socks, and woollen cardigans which look like they were pulled from the very darkest corners of my grandma’s wardrobe. I’m not really big on my dad’s side of the family, I could live quite happily without all the lunches and the small talk. I like my mum’s side, they drink a lot of tea and play really weird instruments, and they all really seem to like dogs. I like that my grandma doesn’t think we know she smokes, and the dinner set she bought my mum, but I don’t like how she picks at her teeth after meals. I don’t like my nana. I don’t like her perm, her letters, the way she speaks about my brother, or my uncle, and I don’t like the way she speaks to my mum. But I kind of like the way she thinks we care that she’s in a wheel chair, but we all really know that she’s lying. I really like mugs and tea cups, I have so many and I really don’t know what to do with them. I only drink from the one. I like painting, although I’m not very good. I like the patterns on toilet paper and paper towel, because I like that the companies keep my cleaning interesting. I like gluing things in my art book, even if by the end of it the book doesn’t actually close. I like the coffee I just made, it tastes pretty damn good, but I don’t like that it’ll make me need to pee like a race horse. I like vintage bikes, and I like that I got a bike for my seventeenth birthday when everybody else got their licence, but I don’t like how my family watches me to see whether or not I’m riding it. I like books, a lot of the time I forget to read them. I just like them. I like the look, I like the smell, and I like that on every page there is a different world. I like the look of leaves, and I love the colours of autumn. I like sitting in a patch of clovers, and sitting there until I find one with four leaves. I like the idea of skinny dipping, and I would like to do it all the time. In pools, in lakes, at the beach. Anywhere really. I like the beach, but I don’t much love the ocean. And I like the way water sounds when it ripples around my body, I like that the boy I had a crush on in high school asked me to the formal, but I don’t much like his ghetto booty. I like icy poles in summer, and probably in winter too. I like celery more than I should, and carrots an appropriate amount. I like how ridiculous my bucket list is, because most of it is just places I want to get high and have sex. I like the idea of shower sex, and I like hooking up in a pool. I like kissing, I like touching, and I really like holding hands. Holding hands seems so innocent but when you think about it, it’s just about the nicest, warmest feeling ever. I like people who don’t keep promises, because I don’t keep promises either. But if they break a pinky-promise, I won’t like them at all. I like drawing on myself, and leaving little notes on my thighs, because if I leave them on my hands, they’ll rub off on my face. I like taking naps, but I don’t much like waking up. I like tapestry things, especially the dress I saw yesterday, and I really like old suitcases. I like old tins, old phones, old books, old clothes, old leather bags and wallets too. I really like vintage shops, and the kind that sell baked goods and play loud music, I like them most. I like sleeping in until two in the afternoon, but only if my family are home, otherwise I wasted a day I could’ve spent alone. I like not wearing clothes when I’m home alone, and sleeping in the nude. I like not wearing pants, because let’s face it, a pantless party is the best kind of party. And I like the idea that one day I’ll get to live alone. I would like to leave my cigarettes on the table instead of stashed in my hand bag. I would like to have an ashtray on the balcony instead of tossing the butts into my neighbour’s yard. I would like to walk around naked and know that nobody’s going to walk in that front door. I would like to stay out as long as I want, and not have to worry about not waking people up when I want to get high at three in the morning. I would like to play music and not hear anyone complain about how loud it is. I would like my friends to come over, or anyone really. I would like my lounge room and bedroom to be one room, and it’d probably be a mess too. I like that idea, I really do. I like the way kids react to bubbles, and the way they can get away with not wearing shoes. I like flowers, but mostly when they’re wilting. There’s something almost poetic about the way they look. I like watching porn, I’m not going to deny that. I like that no one really knows me, no one really knows anyone, and I think that’s kind of cool. I like how many secrets there must be in this world. I like the stars, and I like a crescent moon. I like garage sales and second hand shops, because occasionally there’s a really nice tea set or old embroidered picture frame. I like old cars, and spending the majority of my time watching box sets of television shows. I like the lighting in my bathroom, and the lock on the door. I like the wallpaper in my pop’s kitchen, and the stores down the road. I really like the bra I’m wearing, and I think I’ve been living in it for about a month. I like the drawer full of baggy shirts in my cupboard, and how I found a bottle of beer in my underwear drawer. I like the look of trees, but there’s something about fig trees that make my stomach do back flips, and I like how my biggest fears don’t really make sense. To me or anyone. I like the freckles on my right arm which join together to make a little kite, and I like the idea that one day, I’m going to get it done as a tattoo. I fall in love with blankets, the way they look, the way they feel. There’s something about them that I like. And I like wrapping myself up in them until I feel like the meat inside of a burrito, and I like that I think like this. I really like my brown cardigan, even if my mum keeps telling me I look like a homeless person when I wear it. It’s snug, it’s warm, and the colour looks really nice with my eyes, so I kind of like looking like a homeless person. And I like that that’s probably another thing those staff will remember about me, ‘oh yeah, I do remember her. She sat outside having a cigarette and she always looked like a homeless person’. I like that I like all these little things, and I like that it took almost four pages for me to write it all down, but I don’t much like that once I conclude, I’ll think of something else I like, but there won’t be anymore room. But most of all, I like you. I like the way you think I’m funny, and I think you’re funny too. I like that you don’t stop me from saying stupid things, and that you didn’t think I was crazy when I started talking about animal sex, you just joined in instead. I like that you barely know me, but you actually really do. You may not know the big things about me, but you know all the little things that I like. And I like that too. I like that you asked for a hug, but I didn’t much like that you didn’t take me to a bathroom and f**k me right then and there. But I guess I can’t like everything, just a selected few. But I just want you to know, that I really like the way you like me too. © 2013 Katie Marie |
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Added on September 16, 2013 Last Updated on September 16, 2013 Tags: love, breakfast, coffee, boy, girl, cynecism, poem, short story, young, everything, candles, beach, cigarettes AuthorKatie MarieACT, ACT, AustraliaAboutI’m Katie. I hate my name, it sounds like the name of a toothless hillbilly. I’m eighteen. I’m kind of an a*****e because I love too much and care about very little. I honestly have .. more..Writing
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