Spirited Away Fan Sequel: Chihiro Returns
The soreness in Chihiro’s gut has settled and she can walk through her front door as if nothing happened.
No shoes in the hall. Parents are working late again.
She slips hers off and makes her way to her bedroom, dropping her backpack at her bedside. Homework can wait.
She flops onto her bed and throws her arm over her eyes, the black in her vision is bursting with stars and the vision eases her racing heartbeat. Her growling stomach interrupts.
Okay. Time to get a snack.
Lifting her arm, she waits for the stars in her eyes to clear, and on her ceiling is...a spider? The same spider from before!
Her breath catches in her throat as she stares at it, unblinking. It drops onto her chest, barely weighing an ounce, but it forces a scream from her lungs nonetheless.
She stands and swats at the spider, who crawls all over her body, making her scream more and more.
“Who said that?” Chihiro’s gaze darts toward her window. Her desk. Her closet. Nothing seems out of place and no one is around.
“Sen!” The voice calls from her shoulder. She whips around with another scream, but no one is behind her. She swallows hard, clenching her fists at her sides as she turns her attention to her shoulder.
Please don’t tell me...
The spider is on her shoulder now, its feet are human-like hands with black claws, and a mouth opens under its giant moustache.
“Sen!” It yells. “Are you listening now?”
Chihiro is too busy shuddering to answer anything beyond a whimper.
“I see you haven’t changed,” the spider laughs. “Always hiding your fragile nature behind tough talk. Just like with those girls at school.”
“Who are you?” she whines. “What do you want?”
“You don’t remember? Hmm,” the spider wiggles his nose, making his moustache move with it. “Zeniba warned me you’d forgotten, but I never thought you’d forget me. That’s kind of insulting.”
“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Spider sir.”
“Mister what? Sen, pull yourself together! It’s me, Kamaji!”
“I think you’ve got the wrong person, my name is Chihiro, not Sen.”
“No, you’re the right one. You shuddered like this on our first meeting, too. In the boiler room.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sen, you have to remember! Haku is in danger! Does the name Haku ring a bell?”
“No!” Chihiro yells. Her shuddering is less violent now, but her heart rate hasn’t slowed. “I’m telling you I have no idea what’s going on!”
One of Kamaji’s front hands stretches to scratch his bald head, and the sight is making Chihiro’s head spin.
It’s just a dream. It has to be. Just a dream.
“Looks like I’ll have to bring you back before I can explain. Get out of this house and go downhill and into the woods.”
“Very funny,” Chihiro scoffs, her fear being replaced by frustration. “Follow a talking spider into the woods. How stupid do you think I am?”
“Considering you believe a spider is talking in your world, you tell me.”
Chihiro grumbles and crosses her arms. “I haven’t accepted anything. This is just a dream. I’ll wake up any second now.”
“A dream, is it? Well if that’s the case, there’s no consequence in following me, is there? I’ll lead you to my spider nest, gobble you up, and you’ll wake up back in your room, safe and sound.”
Why does that sound more comforting than anything else Kamaji has said? Chihiro isn’t sure, but he has a point. Dreams are just dreams. Nothing more.
“Fine,” she says. “But I get to weild a sword and slice you in half before you eat me.”
“What? Ehh...sure, whatever you say. Now let’s go!”
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Spirited Away Fan Sequel: Chihiro Returns
The bell for class ends, and Chihiro makes her way back into the classroom just in time to see Yamato walking out, hardly noticing her. That’s for the better, since she doesn’t want him to think she’s crazy.
Her eyes glance back at the corner, and the spider is gone. With a quiet shudder, she packs up her bag, eager to go home and get away from that creepy thing.
“Miss Ogino,” her teacher calls, motioning Chihiro to her desk. “A word.”
She begs her feet not to obey, but they do, eyes shooting around the room.
“What happened in class today? You’re usually so well behaved. A bit snarky, I’ll admit, but not the type to yell during lecture.”
“Sorry, Sensei. I saw a spider and I freaked out. Yamato didn’t see it, so I tried to point to it. I didn’t mean to yell, I was just anxious.”
“A spider?” Her eyes drift around the room. “I assure you dear, there’s no spider around. At least not anymore. I’ll excuse your interruption this time, but don’t let it happen again.”
“Yes ma’am. Thank you,” Chihiro bows.
“Off you go then.”
Chihiro leaves the room in a hurry when a hand grips her arm.
“Hey Ogino!” Calls a shrill voice. “Let’s talk!”
“Ugh, now what?” Chihiro groans. She turns toward the voice only to watch three of her female classmates surrounding her.
“So what were you talking to Tadashi about, huh?” asks one girl. Chihiro can’t remember their names, but this one has long brown hair that flows loosely behind her.
“And since when did you get to address him by his given name?” asks the second, who wears her black hair in a sleek ponytail.
“Don’t you know that he already likes Minako?” says the third, a shorter girl who is pointing to the first.
“I don’t care,” Chihiro barks. “Unlike you worthless geeks, I have better things to do with my time than to worry about who some boy. I actually have life goals that I plan to acheive without anyone’s help. Now move, I don’t have time for your petty jealousy. Especially when it’s over a guy who doesn’t even notice you.”
The twinge on Minako’s face is clear, and she lunges a fist into Chihiro’s gut.
The breath is forced out of her lungs, and she grabs her stomach, curling into a ball, as the girls kick and hit the rest of her body. If she could just fight to breathe, she could run.
Sensei calls out from the classroom as she opens the door and the girls retreat down the hall just as a breath makes its way back into ehr lungs.
“Miss Ogino!” Sensei hurries to her. “Are you alright?”
Coughing, and holding on hand on her stomach, Chihiro struggles to stand.
“I’ll speak to the superintendent about those girls. I can walk you out if you like.”
Chihiro shakes her head and walks off, legs trembling with each step. It’s nice that her teacher saw them and wants to help, but she could feel her eyes stinging.
Not having friends was fine, but now she has enemies, and the teacher getting involved means the war is just beginning. And all over some boy, how pathetic.
She has no reason to fight. Maybe if she can just keep her mouth shut, she can avoid getting hurt too badly.
Besides, enemies will at least make things more interesting.
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Spirited Away Fan Sequel: Chihiro Returns
Another day, another useless hour of math. School has gotten so boring since she entered middle school. Her friends all get to attend the same public school while her parents make her go to this stupid private school, thinking it’ll get her ahead in life. But how hard can success really be? All it takes is determination to stay on the path regardless of how long or hard the road is.
Besides, if a private school is supposed to better her education, then why are the subjects so easy? A little challenge would at least make things more interesting. She might like to have a little anxiety over a test, find a hot senior to tutor her, or at the very least, flunk out of this place and be back with her friends again.
She brushes a hand around the long hair tied behind her head and pulls it over her shoulder. This long hair is such a pain. She thought it’d be pretty, but it’s just annoying. Her eyes flick over to a corner of the room. A spiderweb? In the center of its unusually thick webs, a big black spider waits patiently. Rather, Chihiro assumes it’s patient, because it isn’t moving. But it’s legs look ready to jump.
A snicker escapes her nose at the thought of a giant leaping spider terrorizing the classroom. Go ahead little guy, pick a victim. Make my day.
Wait, something is off about this spider. It looks like there’s something in its mouth. Chihiro squints her eyes and leans forward in her chair. Is that a human nose? Hold on, the spider’s face looks human!
There isn’t anything in its mouth, this spider has a giant bushy moustache, and black goggles. Chihiro blinks hard a few times and rubs her eyes. There’s no way. She looks again, and the spider is still there, and it seems like it’s staring back at her. Chihiro swallows hard.
A tiny poke on her arm makes her leap in her chair, but she relaxes, sighing in relief to see her classmate next to her.
“Miss Ogino, are you okay?” he asks in a whispered tone as the teacher goes on. Chihiro cringes at being addressed so formally, but she shrugs it off, knowing it’s just because she hasn’t tried hard to make any friends here. This guy isn’t so bad, despite how popular he is.
“I’m fine, um...Mister Tadashi,” she whispers back. “It’s just that spider in the corner. It’s a little freaky, that’s all.”
“Please, you can call me Yamato,” he smiles, turning his attention to where he eyes were before. “It looks like the spider’s gone now. Are you afraid of them, Miss Ogino? I assure you, they’re quite harmless.”
Gone? Chihiro furrows her brow at the freaky arachnid that now seems to be glaring at her. She points to it. “Right there!” She covers her mouth as the teacher shoots a glare in her direction.
“Miss Ogino, I am in the middle of a very important lecture. Since you’re so concerned with boys, you can listen from outside.”
Yamato stands from his seat. “Please ma’am, it was my fault. I was worried, so I asked what was wrong.”
“It’s fine,” says Chihiro as she stands from her seat. “I could use the peace and quiet. Thanks anyway, Yamato.”
Chihiro’s face heats up and she hears giggles and whispering from her classmates, but her gaze is stuck on the spider, whose glare seems to be following her. When its legs move and the spider turns to continue facing her, she catches her breath and dashes from the classroom, slamming the door behind her.
That thing. It was really staring at me!
What’s worse, I feel like I’ve seen it before.
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Join Us by the River (Short horror)
Done with work and leaving the mall is like an escape from Hell. What sick forces in Corporate America invented Black Friday? And why is it still legal? And how does the smallest state in the country have so many people?
Whatever, it’s over, just a short walk to downtown and I can catch the bus home. The cold air nips at my face and the clear night sky is refreshing after the heated stress of retail. I pull half a breakfast sandwich from my coat pocket and scarf it down in huge bites, crumbling the paper once it’s gone and shoving the wad back into my coat pocket.
It’s unusually quiet for a Friday night in Providence. Even after the holidays, the streets are buzzing with life. Right now, there’s nothing. No one. In the distance, a bus is heading toward downtown. Good. The lack of people in this city is a little unnerving, but it helps to know I’m not in some freaky rapture movie.
An odd sound and long vibration is coming from my pocket. I fish out my phone to find an emergency notice on the screen.
OFFICIAL WARNING FOR PROVIDENCE RESIDENTS: DO NOT GO NEAR THE PROVIDENCE RIVER. NEARBY RESIDENTS SHOULD COVER THEIR WINDOWS, SHUT OFF ALL LIGHTS, AND LOCK THEIR DOORS.
Huh. Weird. Maybe there’s a shooter in the area? A gang? Good thing I’m heading in the opposite direction.
I shrug it off and put my phone back in my pocket. My text notification goes off a second later. Then another one as I remove it again. One text from my mom, and one from my friend Marc. Mom first, just to avoid her motherly wrath if I forget to answer later.
Leon, it’s so nice out tonight! Come sit by the river with me.
By the river? My heart leaps out of my chest. I stop in my tracks, trying text fast enough to let her know. Trembling hands make it a little tricky, but I manage to get the words down.
I just got a warning about the river. Meet me by the mall and we'll go home. I think there might be a shooter or something.
I hit send and peer over my shoulder. The river is right there, under that bridge. If my mom is in trouble, I can't leave her. Another text notification, this time from my girlfriend. And then another from my kid brother. I go to my inbox. Another message comes in, this one from my aunt.
Hey Leon, it’s Aunt Cheryl! Come meet me by the river! I have a surprise for you!
With some friends by the river. Dancing on the stage. You should join us! Show off your moves!
Hello my love! Are you done with work? Let’s have a dinner picnic by the river! I made your favorite!
Aye man! It’s a full moon out tonight! Let’s sit and enjoy it by the river! I got beer!
My heart pounds in my chest as my mind races for answers. Maybe the gang is forcing them to send these to get to me. But what did I do to make them target me? I’m a bookworm who barely goes out on weekends, how could I make an enemy that would go to these lengths? No, it can’t just be me. Maybe it’s a quiet act of terrorism? One that’s holding people hostage and is making them text everyone to come and see them?
In any case, my loved ones are in trouble and I don’t have much time. I dial 911 and explain the situation.
“There's no terrorist by the river, son,” says the dispatcher. “What’s down there is much worse. I need you to go home, lock your doors and windows, and make sure no one outside can see you.”
“What? Worse! But-”
“We’ll do our best to save your family, kid. For now, worry about yourself.”
“What’s happening to my family? What’s down there?”
“Go home and hide. We’ll do everything we can.”
“Answer my question!” I growl, trying to be quiet in case whatever’s there can hear me, and glancing over my shoulder to make sure it isn’t coming for me. The fucking guy hung up before I could get the last word out. I lower my phone and stare at the ground beneath my feet. My entire body is trembling and there’s a lump in my throat.
Go home and hide? What do I do if I lose everyone? I have to find out what’s happening! I have to help! But what if it’s a trap, and I make things worse by being there? I dart back and forth, trying to decide what to do. The heavy steps are making my already sore feet hurt more.
Come on, man. We’re braver than this, I tell myself. We have to help. If bravery gets us killed, at least we didn’t do nothing, right? Right. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be careful.
Can’t look off the bridge. It’s too far to see and too hard to hide. I need to sneak in and get close enough to see what’s going on and make a plan to help everyone without getting trapped myself. I can do that from the lower walkway that leads to the river. I can try to hide around that corner. And if I get trapped? Then what?
I look around for a potential weapon and see nothing. I slide my backpack off my shoulder and swing it around a bit. It feels heavy enough to make a decent impact. It’ll have to do. The cobblestone walkway around the river breaks in some places. Maybe I can fill it with rocks while I creep around.
My hands are trembling as I realize I have no idea what's going to happen, but I've made up my mind. As I cross the street to get there, a woman holds a man’s arm as they make their way to the lower entrance toward the river.
“What do you think is happening?” I can barely hear her say.
“I don’t know, but everyone is down there.” The guy answers.
Somehow, watching them stroll toward the river makes me feel a little calmer, and a little dumb for swinging my backpack like a weapon. Maybe this is some random party with illegal fireworks or something.
They walk through the short tunnel and I’m not far behind. I stop before I get to the cobblestone walkway, and breathe a sigh of relief to see people casually leaning against the rail, admiring the river. The couple ahead of me look around as a young girl in a hood walks by them without looking up. I see her mouth moving, but I can’t hear anything. The two glance at her as she continues to walk, her large black hood covering her eyes. They shrug in response and walk to the rail to admire the river for themselves.
It isn’t until now that I notice a green glow coming from the river. I’m tilting my head at the sight when the hooded girl steps directly into view, pulling all of my attention on her. Her lips grin under the hood.
“You should look into the river. The water is beautiful.”
Her voice is calm and soothing, and for a second, I almost want to.
She lifts her head and looks at me with...black eyeshadow? No, it’s not eyeshadow. Her eyes are...gone. She’s looking at me with two large, empty holes, deep enough to see into her skull.
I can’t explain the horrible sound that came out of me, but it scares me as much as her face does, and throws me off balance, like something pushed me. I fall back onto the ground and scramble to my feet to run away, trying hard not to trip on my own two feet.
A small group of teenagers is strolling toward me. I blink, and I’m grabbing one of them by his shoulders, pleading with him to stay away from the river, screaming that something horrible is happening. I think there are tears pouring down my face, but I'm not about to stop and check. They chuckle to themselves and push me aside to see for themselves. I want to keep pleading, but as they leave, my attention turns to that girl.
She hasn’t moved, but it feels like she’s an inch away. Her hood is covering her eyes again, but her face keeps flashing into my vision. As I scramble to get away, her voice is singing my name, willing me to join her. My ears are flooded with the voices of my mom, brother, aunt, friend, girlfriend, all calling my name in soothing, siren voices, begging me to come back.
I turn a corner and there are a lot more people around now, most of them heading toward the river. This can’t be happening.
A bolt of pain surges through my body and I’m paralyzed, screaming. It only lasts a few seconds, but the aftermath is lingering. I fall to my knees, eyes focused on the street light above me. It’s all getting blurry, and I can’t breathe. Everything is going black.
* * * * *
I gasp for air and sit up, trying to catch my breath as I look around to figure out what happened. I’m in my room, and it's dark out. I look at the digital clock on my bedside. 2:37AM. My backpack is on the floor next to my bed, though I’m pretty sure I dropped it as soon as I saw that creepy girl’s eyes. I shudder to myself at the thought, but my heart is finally slowing down in my chest, and I take a moment to sigh in relief, dragging my hands down my face. How do I fathom such a creepy concept?
A dream. Thank the good Lord. Though somehow, I don’t remember getting home last night. I don’t even remember the bus ride or getting upstairs. I must have been more tired than I thought. I look down at myself and see that I’m still in my work clothes.
That weird alert noise comes on my phone again and I freeze in my spot. I don’t want to look, but I pull it from my pocket with quivering hands.
Please, I beg to myself, please let it be some thunderstorm or flash flood.
EMERGENCY ALERT TO ALL RHODE ISLAND RESIDENTS: STAY INSIDE. LOCK YOUR DOORS AND WINDOWS. TURN OFF ALL LIGHTS.
No hesitation. I run to the wall, turn off the light, then run to lock the only bedroom window I have and close the curtain and sit on the floor. Trying to keep my shaking breath as quiet as possible.
What is going on? Why is this happening? Does this mean I’m the only one in my house? Oh God, what do I do? I don’t even know what’s going on!
It feels like an eternity has gone by, and nothing has happened. Curiosity gets the better of me. I know I shouln't, but I grab the edge of my curtain and slowly, shaking, pull it just enough to see outside with one eye.
It's dark aside from the streelights. Still. Quiet. The only movement is a girl walking down the street. Not the hooded girl, this one has darker skin. Her walk is calm, like nothing is wrong. She stops dead in her tracks, and turns her head directly to me and grins. Her eyes are hollow, just like the hooded girl’s.
My heart jumps and I frantically close the curtain. Oh God she saw me! They know I’m here! What do I do?
A dull thud comes from downstairs, and my heart skips a beat. A shifting sound follows, and I can hear footsteps coming upstairs. Each step is slow, as if this thing is taunting me with its presence. My breathing gets heavier with each one as my heart tries to break through my chest.
The footsteps get closer and closer to my door. I quietly beg and plead for all of this to be an elaborate prank. The doorknob shifts and turns as slowly as possible, and I’m sure this thing is milking and relishing every second of my fear. I hide my face with my arms so I don’t have to watch this thing kill me.
The door opens, and a face pokes in.
Wait, I know that voice.
“Mom!” I leap from my spot, throwing my arms around her. I want to savor this, but the hollow-eyed girl from the sidewalk flashes into my mind and I pull back to grab her by the shoulders.
“Mom, something’s happening, something’s out there! We have to get ready, it could come any second! Grab a knife or something, we can’t let it get us!”
“It’s too late,” my mother’s eyes fade into hollow sockets as her face elongates to resemble the girl from the sidewalk.
The shock pulses through my body, and my knees buckle down under me. The girl grabs my hands from her shoulders and smiles at me.
“So gullible,” she sings in that familiar siren voice I heard earlier. It wasn’t a dream. But how did I get home?
I stand back up, trying to pull out of her grip, but they feel sticky, like they're covered in honey. As I look down at them, they turn into squid-like tentacles that wrap themselves all the way up my arms and hold me in place as I try to get away, screaming for help to whatever or whoever might hear me.
As I call out, my bedroom walls fade away, and I’m back by the river, surrounded by a ton of people, all with hollow eyes. My mom and everyone else are standing together, grinning at me. I call out to them, begging for them to snap out of it. Nothing works. Everyone is singing in soothing voices and I continue screaming and fighting, trying not to listen.
Full moon hung
Put an end to the rising sun
Our revolution has begun
I continue to wriggle and whimper, begging and pleading for everything to stop. I try to kick my foot toward the girl’s leg, but her tentacles push me back so I can’t reach.
“It’s a beautiful night, Leon. Just take a look at the river.”
As I struggle, the other side of the river comes into view, where a man in a business suit approaches the edge of the riverbank. He still has eyes, and his necktie is undone, as if he needs a relaxing evening.
“DON’T DO IT!” I call. “RUN! GET HELP!”
He doesn’t hear me, and he peers over the rail with tired eyes. The color drains from his face, and the whites of his eyes mix with the flesh of his eyelids and they melt with streams of red down his cheeks. His mouth hangs open as the empty sockets heal themselves into permanent holes, and a smile creeps onto his face, as if all his problems were solved.
“You see?” The girl sings as the chanting continues and the man takes out his phone to contact others. “It’s not so bad.”
No, it’s horrible! I keep struggling, but my energy is draining and my muscles ache.
“Such a naughty boy. I guess you’ll have to be first.” Her tentacles wrap further up my arms and around me as the others continue to sing. I keep calling and pleading with a cracking voice, my lungs throbbing, throat burning, and tears pouring down my face. My feet lift from the ground and I close my eyes, refusing to fall into the trap. I catch my breath as my body lunges downward and takes a sudden stop. My tears are running up my forehead now, and they aren’t slowing down. There’s a light barely able to peak through my eyelids, but I refuse to open them.
The air on my face is cool, almost relaxing, but the smell is making my stomach churn; Like rotting flesh drowned in low tide. My mom and the others are still calling my name in loving, reassuring voices, but I don’t dare open my eyes.
There’s a pressure on the back of my throat and my sandwich finds its way back up and out onto whatever is underneath me. The smell is still so pungent that I continue heaving, even with nothing left to come up. The acidic taste on my tongue is only making things worse.
Eventually, the light goes out and the song fades. Against my better judgement, I open my eyes and look below. It takes a second to process what I’m seeing. A tunnel made of dark red flesh, filled with long, needle-like teeth in rows going all the way down. My throat is burning, my muscles are aching and my lungs feel like lead. But watching this thing get closer is giving me my second wind to keep screaming and wriggling as much as I can. Memories of earlier tonight flash through my mind. All of those things I could’ve done differently.
I should’ve listened. All of those texts I could’ve ignored. I’m here because I fell into the trap. This is happening because I didn’t just go home. Am I dying for nothing?
Was being brave worth all of this?
I don’t know. But I wouldn’t be here.
If I had just worried about myself, would this have turned out okay?
I don’t know. But I wouldn’t be here.
Why couldn’t I keep my eyes shut so I wouldn’t have to know how it ends?
I don’t know.
But now I see.
Fart Swapping: A Love Story
This is a true story, and not one for the prim and proper “mature” couples out there.
My boyfriend and I were dating for three years when this happened. We were at a public camping event that had indoor plumbing and around 300 total attendees and staff.
It's a clear night, everyone here is friendly, loving, and we’re being our usual lovey-dovey selves. We’d just gotten out of the shower and into our warm little onesies. Because that’s who we are.
His is Batman with a butt-flap, and mine is Harley Quinn with the sprouting Jester bells on the hood. (Like bunny ears.) We stop by our tent to drop off our towels and day clothes before meeting up with our friends.
I’m bending over, only the top half of my body is inside the tent, and he pushes a small bit of weight onto my butt. I’m thinking he’s doing that weird play-humping thing people do sometimes, so I just laugh.
A puff of warm air vibrates onto my ass, and his laughter rings out into the night. I slowly stand up, releasing a heavy breath and looking at him with blank eyes. When his laughter turns to fear, I’m confident my revenge will be sweet.
I grab him by his shoulders and push him a few steps back, turning him away from me. I wind up my (still damp) towel into a rat tail. My target? His ass!
I whip the towel toward him, but I didn’t move him far enough. The towel wraps itself around him, and the end snaps the tip of his penis.
At the sound of his cry, in the middle of Tent City, everyone pokes out to see Batman grab his crotch, kneeling and groaning in pain while Harley Quinn yells variations of ‘that’s what you get’ and ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’
That was about a year ago. We’re still together, and madly in love. This level of ridiculousness is a huge part of our lives and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Water vs. Fire
People love you because you flow like water. You’re fun to be around, people look to you for peace, you give them life, and you help where you can. All that, I can respect.
But just like water, when an obstacle crosses your path, you ripple and flex your way around it as if it isn’t there at all. When your path seems completely blocked, you hardly put up a fight. You’ll accept your limit, and continue doing what you can for others within your new confines.
Little do they know, for as peaceful as you are, you are not a force to be taken lightly. When you finally snap and lash out, your peers feel betrayed, shocked by your sudden change in tone, and for a while, may avoid you out of fear. So you retreat back to your previous self, and soon they will return, and the cycle will begin all over again.
I, however, am fire. I don’t put up with the slightest bit of mistreatment. I’m there to help and warm my peers who would treat me fairly, and consider my emotions. Those who can’t be bothered to care enough will be burned.
They know that; and so those who interact with me are a select few who truly care. Quality over quantity, right? Those who surround me know of my heat, and take all necessary precautions to avoid making me mad.
Of course, I have my bad days too. I lash out, destroy, rage over as far a distance as I can. When I finally calm down, it will continue to only be the most caring who approach me again. They may have felt my heat first-hand, but if they realize their mistake, they’ll change their behaviors to ensure it doesn’t happen again. They wouldn’t dare blame me for their carelessness.
People will throw rocks and garbage in your direction, and you will quietly take the abuse until you snap. Doing so with me may result in serious damage, and because of that, there are rules and guidelines made to treat me with respect.
While there are people who fight for your health, your cycle will never change. You will continue to be calm and emotionless in your maltreatment until you finally expode.
Yet the fact remains that the earth can’t go on without both of us. Our existence goes hand-in-hand. You bring life, and I bring warmth. You relax the people around you, and relieve their stress. I excite those who surround me, and inspire their imaginations.
It doesn’t make sense for us polar opposites to be at odds. Yes, somedays I’ll boil you to nothing, and some days you’ll drown me completely. But we both do our part, and we both deserve respect. While I occasionally forget your importance due to my hot temper, I can’t deny it when it’s pointed out to me.
So thank you, water. Thank you for your patience as my temper runs away with me yet again. We are both perfectly flawed, and we can help each other in these times. I’ll help you stand up against your abusers, and you can remind me that my temper is not always necessary. Hand in hand, we will both move forward.