Smile - Just Your Typical Emo Story

I woke up with sun streaming through the open window. I yawned and stretched, pushing back the covers. I smiled at the plaid "Granny" quilt. I fell back against the bed, spreading out my legs, and staring up at the blank white ceiling. Life can only be good, if you're willing to make it so. I pulled myself up and off the bed. I slid my sock covered feet across the hardwood floor to my duffel bag. I rifled through finding a fresh pair of jeans and a simple gray t-shirt. I unzipped a different pocket, pulled out some underwear, and zipped it back up.

Last, I dug around searching for my notebook. When I found it, I flipped past old, scratched-out pages finding my latest entries.

It all falls down in a sarcastic rain cloud.
Raindrops like tears, it simply mocks the living.
Soaking through, chilling bones.
Water is only kind to those dead souls.
Souls like his.

Love is not in the figure of a heart
For love has no form
Love has no conceptual mass
For love is has no limitations
Love is infinite

Tears are shed for emotion that is not her own

A cry for help is the equivalent of a cry for love

I pulled out a pen and began scribbling my thoughts.

Life can only be good, if you're willing to make it so

Forgiveness is only plausible when the soul is ready to love once more.

I smiled in spite of myself. I was about to close the notebook and head for the bathroom, when I thought of something.

Love overpowers all other feelings. Love will never let you lose the best in your life.

I shrugged and said to myself, "I'll fix that later."

I yanked the shirt over my damp body. I struggled with my jeans trying to get the denim fabric to pull over my still wet thighs. I fluffed my hair with a towel and without bothering to comb through it, tied it up in a ponytail. I pulled the bathroom door open and quickly dashed over to my room with my used towel and pajamas in my arms. I dumped the discarded clothing on top of my unmade bed and flew out of my bedroom, pulling the door shut behind me.

I bounded down the stairs and found my dad in the kitchen reading a newspaper. "Good morning!" I chimed, my mood making itself clear.

He looked up grinning, "Someone had a good night's sleep?"

I nodded, smiling, "Surprisingly that granny clad room of yours has an uber comfy bed."

"'Uber'?" He asked, giving me a questioning look.

"Oh," I apologized, "I'm sorry. I forgot you're not hip like Rob is. Does 'extremely' work for you? Or am I still way ahead of your years?"

He let out a good, full belly laugh, "I get the context of the word, I just wasn't aware that was in style, again. I thought it went out with 'lame'."

I gave him a faux shocked look, "Father, 'lame' is back. Where have you been? In a cave?"

He laughed again, "You still give me that same doe-eyed look every time I say something that's not 'with it'."

I gave him a hard look, "Now, 'with it', is out. Geez!"

I elbowed him slightly in the ribs and opened the refrigerator surveying its contents. I decided on orange juice and pulled out the hearty Tropicana. I eyed the expiration date, and satisfied, poured it into a clean glass.

"So, what's on the agenda today?" I eyed him over my glass before I took a sip.

"Well," he started glancing at the clock hanging over the stove, "In about an hour we're going to the Olive Garden for lunch. You're going to meet Krista and Alexis there. To make it a bit more formal and less awkward for the both of you."

I nodded, "Yeah, meeting my future family would be weird if they came here after I did. Definitely weird."

He flipped down the newspaper, folding it back to its original state, "Exactly what I was thinking."

"Sounds good, chief," I chimed, bringing my glass half full of orange juice up to him. He did the same with his coffee mug. "Cheers."

"Cheers," he echoed.