Crying, bleeding, a runny nose. Sadness, injury, sickness. Why is there this connection between trauma and the loss of bodily fluids?
I drink 10 litres of milk, apple juice, and water every day, because if liquid out is bad, then liquid in is good.
But the ceaseless urination hurts my soul.
When Camille cried her crocodile tears and sang her songs of woe, it wasn’t really because she was lonely or sad. It was actually because she was a very dramatic crocodile, and she knew that great actresses could convey real emotion, so she was practicing.
That’s what she told herself.
This story is based on a title suggested by @Jesstrel.
He was a subculture within a subculture. Cowboys called him “bisonboy,” which wasn’t technically accurate, but it had a better ring to it than “buffaloboy.” He listened to country southern music and wore a 9-gallon hat.
But when he was sad, his tears made mud puddles, just like everybody else’s.
This story was based on a title suggested by @metcarfre.
“Aww, where’s mommy?” they teased. “Is baby homesick?”
And she dried her tears and lied to them.
“I’m not homesick,” she shouted, and that wasn’t the lie.
“I don’t care about my mommy,” she protested, and that wasn’t the lie.
“Leave me alone!” she screamed, and that was the lie.
This story was based on a title suggested by Dan Hingston through the Facebook page.
“Sleep. Don’t cry. There is nothing you can do.
“They are gone, never to return. We cannot bring them back, and I am sorry, but you must live with that.”
That’s what she said, but today they died, and I will cry with the rain.
Today I am an orphan.
Matthew Trotter is 21 and lives where the wind carries him. He enjoys writing to pass time and reads as much as he can.