Random one-shots

Moral of the story

First person 🥳
But it's sad, following the lyrics of "Moral of the Story" by Ashe
I'm not going to do the whole song
Lots of credit to my editor Snowww37
Go give them a cookie and a follow, this chapter would be bumpy without them

Laying in bed, I kept scratching my arms; still thinking about her rough calloused hands; how I still wish they were mine.
I still remember every time she would become distant, ignore me. She knew everything about me; what pushed my buttons, what made me happy, what calmed me down. But what did I know about her..?
Nothing.
So I never really knew you

We would talk and talk, for hours on end, but I never learned anything. Sometimes, it felt like I didn't even know her name. I could call her name for twenty minutes, and she wouldn't even look at me.

I scratch harder, still sensing the feeling of her hands roaming over my body, so soft and lovely, now harsh and horrible.
God, I really tried to.

She didn't like my friends, wanted me all to herself. She would lie and weave rumors into her sentences, and I believed every word of it. I wish I had listened to my friends advice, but I didn't because I was
Blindsided, Addicted

Her friends didn't like me, they would walk all over me, telling me how much of a pushover I was. I let her control my life, all I asked for in return was her undying love.
Thought we could really do this

But that price was too high for her. She would tell me how much she loved me, "to the moon and back". But it was always lies, all of it, every single word.
But really I was foolish

I've always had a good nose, my mother used to say, 'You could probably smell a cookie from a mile away.' I knew her smell, it was like fireworks on the Fourth of July, sharp and smokey. So I should have known when she came home smelling like honey and sugar.
Hindsight, it's obvious

I knew, but I didn't care, all I cared about was her. If she was happy, if she wanted something, anything, I would get it for her. I waited on her hand like a servant, a little lost puppy dog, a lamb, she was my 'Highness', my 'Master', my 'Shepherd'.
Talking with my lawyer, she said, "Where'd you find this guy"

I met her at a coffee shop, she sat in my reserved seat, and refused to get up. I've always been a pushover, so I just accepted my fate and sat next to her. I pulled out my cigarettes, and she asked for one. I did, and it sparked a conversation. Soon she made it a habit to sit in my seat and steal my cigarettes, but she was nice to talk to, so I didn't mind.
I said, "Young people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes."

One day, she wasn't at the shop, sitting in 'her seat', and I got worried. She fell through the door ungracefully, drunk off her ass, with absolutely no idea where she was, or how she got there. She only recognized me, "Hey! Doormat, what're you doing here?" Doormat, that weird nickname. Oh, how I hated it. She couldn't remember her address, probably couldn't even tell you what clothes she was wearing, if she remembered she was wearing them in the first place. I took her to my house, she stole my bed, and I slept on the floor.
Some mistakes get made, that's alright, that's okay

I don't know how we fell in love, it was probably a one-night stand that went very wrong. I was so convinced she was the love of my life, I looked over all her disastrous flaws.
You can think that you're in love, when you're really just in pain

I couldn't stop scratching, my arms were already bleeding. My neck was on its way. I want to rip off this choker so badly, but I know it was the only thing holding me together, without it, I would spiral downwards. In my life, there is no bottom, you have to reach the bottom to know it's there, that's never happened. I float in a bottomless pit, going up and down, but I had never fallen this far, until her. It was like she was pulling me down with some invisible force.
My neck has started bleeding, but I still won't stop scratching, not until this choker leaves my throat.
Some mistakes get made, that's all right, that's okay

If I'm being honest I haven't gotten any better. If I'm being honest, I'm not who I used to be, I can feel it, it's like she took all the good parts of me, the only parts she liked, and ripped them out. The last time I was truly happy, smiling and full of such euphoria, was when one of my old friends gifted me a llama plush. Even though it wasn't much, I couldn't stop myself from smiling so large and saying "Thank you!" If I'm being honest, it's almost sad, how such a small and insignificant gift can make me so happy, even for a short amount of time.
In the end it's better for me, that's the moral of the story, babe

I never knew such a thing as love could have so much of an impact on my life. I can't live without her, I knew I was dependent, but not this, I don't know what this is, but it's not dependency. I can't function, everything reminds me of her, I can't walk into my kitchen without being reminded of her mediocre cooking; I can't take a shower without feeling her hands running down my back, or helping me wash my messy hair. I stopped smoking, every cigarette reminds me of how we met, every puff reminds me of her smell, it's terrible. I guess love's just not for me.
It's funny how a memory turns into a bad dream

A cat just jumped onto my windowsill, it just sat there staring at me or maybe past me? I walk towards the window and open it for the cat. It's freezing outside, and was also scratching my paint away. It jumped in and ran to my bed. It didn't seem afraid of me, but it didn't seem friendly either. It just continued staring at me again. I slump down against the edge, and it struts over and cautiously climbs onto my shoulder, and then jumps down to my lap, getting comfortable. He begins to lap at my wounds, and it satisfies my itch. I reach to pet him, but he hisses and bares his teeth, yet goes back to licking my wounds when I pull away.

Maybe I can learn something from this terrible experience. Maybe I can finally figure out how to love the right way.
When running wild, turns volatile

I gave her so much, my love, my life, sentimental things I should have saved. I gave her my grandma's pendant, and we fought when I found it in the trash. I gave her my money, the money I worked so hard for. I caught her stealing out of my wallet so many times, but I kept my mouth shut.

When we painted my room, she couldn't choose, and painted each of my walls a different color. I wanted to paint over it, forget it ever happened, but I couldn't bring myself to even imagine how different my room would look.
Remember how we painted our house?

I introduced her to my family, they didn't trust her, my grandparents especially. She distanced me from them as well.
Just like my grandparents did, so romantic.

I need to stop living in the past, it'll only hurt me. Maybe living in the future might not be so bad, it's sure to be better than the present.

So sorry about that ending, I had no more ideas so I decided to cut it off. I realized after my editor got done that I wouldn't be continuing, so that's why it might not fit as well. My first attempt at first person, it's not going to become a habit.
Fun fact: I had not thought out anything about this character, not even a gender. But I think it's fits.