The Coffee Here Sucks.

I really wish I had stayed on mars. Or at the very least gone to some other planet. Earth’s the only one that really has an atmosphere that everyone here would die without, so I guess that’s one good thing, but it doesn’t get rid of too many other things.

Coffee shops have been the worst. I went into the same one twice, and both times were awful. The minute I walked in, the dimly lit shop was full of people, people who couldn’t bother to stop staring at screens. Screens that come in all shapes and sizes, and in different colors. And the smell of the actual coffee was so strong, it smelt as if I entered a warm car with leather seats and carpet. I thought I’d be safe from that comforting smell but I was wrong.

The minute I step in line to order a drink, the noises are loud, the dimly lit lights become to bright and that sweet smell disappears as more people come in line, leaving me trapped, and then there I am, at the front of the line, facing a barista with hair as blonde as wheat and eyes as green as grassy fields. 

“What can I get you?” she says. I don’t know what to say, this is the scariest part, but she seems so nice and to have no intention of hurting me

“A drink please.” i respond

“What kind of drink?” RATS.

“A coffee drink, please.”

“What kind of coffee do you want?” she seemed confused at me, and I look at the menu behind her

“A black coffee.”

“And what name is it under?”

“Joey,” I say randomly

“Okay, your coffee will be out soon.”

I wait, everything is still bad, the noises, the noises that sound like suctions on helium, and peoples conversations, along with the strong smells of everything, and then I hear, “Black coffee for Joey,” and that’s when I get my coffee and book it.

I was free, but not really, I’m still on earth, It’s loud, and it smells bad. Plus, the coffee here sucks.  

Motivation

Adults thought the kid was lazy, and lacked common sense, and couldn’t do anything right. The only thing adults could get somewhat right about the kid is that it had no motivation. The kid had no motivation for school, and to get good grades on its tests or understand the concepts, no motivation for after school activities, and to keep its mind on it and goals to improve, the kid had no motivation to talk to its classmates or friends at school or to even eat lunch or breakfast when it should have and slowly begins to lose motivation to eat dinner too.

The kid can’t even do what it wants to do, the kid can’t draw anymore at free will, yet it’s a miracle when the kid draws again once in a blue moon and still has its ability to draw. The kid can’t write stories about princess saving princes from dragons or about creatures that live on mars, the kid can’t think of ideas for its stories the kid can’t even put words on a notepad with pen, not even its favorite

Ramen

It was the little girl’s first time ever eating ramen. She had never had the delicious soup with noodles until later tonight. 

Her best friend picked her up from her house, and they would meet their other friends from school at the ramen shop

“This place is really good,” said the girl who picked her up, and then they saw their friends, a tall girl and a red haired boy. “You’ll love this place, I can’t believe you haven’t had ramen before.”

After a while, the friends got their ramen, and the girl, the girl who has never had ramen before in her life, looked at it, and saw the noodles lanky noodles hiding underneath the broth and the eggs and chopped onions, and then she grabbed her stubborn chopsticks and did the best that she could to make those stubborn chopsticks grab hold onto the shy noodles that hid behind the warm broth, and brought those noodles to her mouth. 

She was a girl who never had ramen, but no, she is a girl who loves it, and couldn’t get enough of it.

Pluto

She is Pluto. 

We were all once close. She was once a part of the solar system of planets. We used to hang out everyday at school and on weekends. She and our friends would go out and get ice cream or go to the beach. I remember her favorite flavor was cookies and cream, the kind that has the oreo cookies in them. And when we went to the beach, she’d become, “The Mermaid Queen,” and the ocean was her’s and the beach would soon be too.

As days turned into weeks, weeks turned into years. We stopped going to the beach so often and then ice cream socials became a once in a while situation. She just didn’t have as much energy to do everything all the time as we got older, she changed like all of us, but in a way different. She stopped coming to lunch with us at school, and now the only time I see her is when I can give her a quick wave in the halls of students at school. 

But now She’s quite far away, and she has become more distant, more distant in a way in which she no longer talks to me or my friends as often, So often that some people have forgotten her. Almost as if her existence doesn’t matter. There are still some people, but very few, that do care, but she is still far. Her family doesn’t see her as often anymore either, so it’s not just her friends. The last I saw of her, she was tired, but not tired as if she were sleepy. Besides that last time, I haven’t seen or spoken to her since, no one has. 

She is Pluto

No good

I was thrown into a dark pit, and the light disappeared with a “SLAM!” That’s it. After all that time, just darkness. I could no longer see the rips with permanent muck stains  or my foot that was almost unraveled.

I remember my first day with rufus. I was just finished and sewn up. I had perfect blue fabric for my skin and a beautiful tutu with glittery pink tule, and my floppy ears were so long and two black buttons for eyes.  But look at me now. My left eye is on the verge of falling off, My right ear ripped off completely, my tutu, once pink, now faded, half of it ripped off, and my blue skin is now dusty with muck and drool. 

And this is where I am now, this is what I get after being a dog’s toy for not even a year. Trashed. Being mauled everyday and thrown in dirt, and I’m just thrown in the trash. Did I really mean nothing to Rufus? He didn’t throw me away, it was his owner, my creator, the one who made me for rufus, and now, I’m just here, in a smelly black pit called, “the trash.”  

Maybe that is what I am, meaningless trash, meaning less trash that no one will care to think about. Why am I even lamenting over this? I’m just a dog toy.