A Melted Smirk

1

There was a confusing air passing through. Like it smelled bad but you couldn't catch on to what the smell was. I was just sitting there, in the corner, analyzing, discreetly, the possible things that could be creating that smell.
Maybe it's a dead animal? But it smells too sweet. Maybe it's a rotten rat that had raided a candy shop the night before it had died? That actually seems probable.
Them I see it, it's not a rat all, it’s a fucking human. I think it's a human his or her or its skin was too pink, like bubble gum pink, and the skin was dripping off as though it had been sitting on a tropical beach for hours and hours.
I was still sitting there, but I was in awe of what I was seeing. I didn't understand. We were not even near a beach or anything like that. We were in the middle of the world. Like the city in the direct center. Not like the core of the world that would be reasonable due to the things skin. He or she or it started to drift away down the street. I was too curious to just let it go. So I followed. I needed to know what and why.
I didn't know what I meant or why I cared but I did.

The thing entered a door, at the end of a dead end street, which was covered bats which is strange, because I had never ever seen a bat before. So how on earth did I know it was a bat?

But I knew.

Somehow I knew, and I was not afraid. I kept going. I following whatever this thing was into a dark hooded house surrounded by broken dreams of the kind hearted.

The thing was I was always afraid, so why was I not afraid now?

There was something reassuring in that melted pink face, something beautiful, and lost. Broken in fact. As though this thing had gone through something to me, a broken and lost person, who found joy in making fun of the world. It was like all the crap, and broken hearts I had received meant nothing but humor to me. I was able to find a smile in the worst of situations. This made life bittersweet, because I was not only broken, but hiding behind a shield of humor. This pink bubblegum being knew how I felt I could tell by the broken, or melted, smirk on its face.

I didn’t stop after it went through the door. I waited a minute, and checked if it was locked, and of course it was not. It was like the thing had wanted me to follow it.

On this planet filled of things I don’t really understand. Where my knowledge exceeds my own understanding. I wondered what awaited me behind this door.

Was it love? No that’s a stupid thing to even think about, love does come unexpected like this monster thing thing, but when it comes you know, but you don’t understand. Or maybe you do understand, I would not fucking now. I currently think I am in love, but how does one know. Is it the excitement that you get when you talk to that person? The silence you can withhold while being around this person? Is it the thoughts that carry out while you’re not with or talking to this person? Is it the calmness you achieve just by listening to their voice? I don’t know, but I think I am stalling. I am honestly afraid, not only of being in love, of what stands between me and this door. Of what stands behind this door. What if it’s the end of me? What if because I entered this door I never know whether I am in love or not? What if I am just fucking stalling because I can’t stop thinking of these impossible things that don’t make sense because I am of afraid of so much and my fear is barely hitting in?

I think I do love him.

Fuck.

I hate this shit so much, like why is there so many stories about this when it fucking sucks.

Fuck it, I say.

Fuck it as hard as I can fuck it, and then I open the door.

2

Behind it. There was nothing. Not even a bubble gum person. Just nothing.

I realized my worries were nothing as well.

2.0

Behind the door there was bubble gum of all flavors. Little bubble gum people singing songs of those broken dreams those teenagers used to have. Dreams of musicians they would marry. Dreams of futures they would have. Dreams of love they could never get. Every crush that crushed them. Every hope that broke them.

I slowly walked in, trying not to step on anything sticky or chewy or lost.

I knew there was something up.

I knew there was something lost. Maybe in myself. Maybe in these, alien sort things.

Maybe they were martians.

Maybe they were cyborgs.

Imaginary friends of those lost hopes.

Crushed crushes.

Lost dreams.

Maybe they were formed from my own imagination.

Maybe they were lost friends I thought I forgot.

In my world of ketchup fingers and buttercup hearts.

I didn’t know what to think.

I wasn’t trained to really think. I trained to not think at all.

I was trained to believe in religion.

And not be myself.

Of course I rebelled, like most.

And of like none.

I wanted to speak, but I was not even trained to do that.

I knew how to speak.

I think.

I knew how to walk, but I could hardly even do that.

I was a copycat in an original world filled of unoriginal things.