Care For YouA Story by Katie MarieI just don't like people. I like possessions because they can't talk. Understandable?I don’t even know what people are talking about half the time. And I don’t know if it’s that I don’t want to listen, or if I can’t. I don’t imagine that I’d care terribly much, about what other people have to say. Not that I’m selfish, I’m really not. I just really don’t care about other people’s relationships, or something they did on the weekend which they thought was the greatest, or funniest thing to ever happen in this world. I don’t even care about my own relationships or what I did on the weekend. I don’t care about much, actually. But the things I do care about, I care whole-heartedly. I’m all or nothing, and I can’t help but be that way. So, if I care for you, be careful. Be careful because I know me, and I will lose myself in you. I will lose myself in the way you walk, the way you talk too. I will lose myself in the things you like; music, movies, or those patterns you might like to draw. I will lose myself in the little things, and that scares me a lot. I will lose myself in your pout, or your cloudy eyes. I will lose myself in the way you laugh, your smile, and even the way you scratch your nose. I will lose myself if I care for you, because I wouldn’t know what else to do. I don’t care for much, only a select few. I care for my morning coffee, that first cigarette too. I care for the tacky brown cardigan I wear almost everyday. I care for the dog I got for my twelfth birthday, but I don’t care much for anybody else. You. I might care for you. I care for words, and sentences, and paragraphs too. I care for poems, and stories, and novels. I care for candles too. I care for tapestry lounges, and velvet foot stools. I care for the smell before rain, and the taste of tea with honey. I care for felt tip pens, and how they print my words. I care for my hair today, but never any other day. I care for my friend with the flat hair, and the friend who’s once was blue. I care for my friend with the nose ring, and the friend with the pointed upper lip. I care for some other friends too. I can’t think of much else which I care for. I can’t think of anything but you. I care for you and the way your head works, and the way you’re actually able to grow a beard. I care for you and how you laugh at all my jokes, and I think you’re funny too. I care for your big front teeth, and how goofy you look when you smile. I care for you, and how we talk. But I’m sorry for caring for you. Because I know it might feel like too much sometimes, and I know that when I care, I care too much. I’m sorry, I really am. But please care for me back, none the less? Because I don’t know what I would do, if I cared so much for you, but I found you with someone else. Grinding with them instead. And if I was to, I would probably beg you to lie, because I wouldn’t want to know the truth. I don’t care for much, you know? But I really do care for you. And I’d hate to know that you were off somewhere else, with some other girl. And I was here, alone; drinking my tea, in my tacky brown cardigan, thinking about you. © 2013 Katie Marie |
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Added on September 22, 2013 Last Updated on September 22, 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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