4:30 AM Deep Poem That I'll Probably Forget I Wrote Tomorrow

Some Random Poem I Came Up With At 4 AM

I love love.

I love reading about it, I love hearing about it, and I love seeing it.

I love watching a young couple hold hands, laughing at an inside joke one of them just said.

I love making up a story about them,

Using my creative and obsessive brain for something meaningless.

Thinking about how they met in their sophomore year of highschool,

He was the star football player and she was captain of the cheerleading squad.

How her best friend had set them up together,

And single-handedly convinced nearly the entire student body to vote for them as prom king and queen.

Thinking about how he was planning to propose to her in two weeks when they went to her favorite restaurant, and how he'd already bought the ring and had placed it lovingly at the back of his "Hopes" chest.

She'd say yes of course.

Or then again, maybe she'd been cheating on him for three years.

Maybe she had been planning on breaking up with him in two weeks, after he paid for their dinner at her favorite restaurant.

He'd go home, heartbroken.

I love looking at houses and wondering what type of family lives there.

Maybe it was a couple in their early fourties, growing more in love with each other every day that passed.

Maybe they had kids; A fourteen year-old daughter and a five-year-old son.

Maybe the wife was an exceptional nurse at a five-star hospital that was located less than two blocks away.

Maybe the husband was the owner of a popular local coffee shop, where twenty percent of the earnings went to charity.

Maybe the daughter had been tentatively dating this guy for two months now, and she thought she was falling love.

He made her heart flutter and race like no other person ever had or would, and he felt the same way.

Maybe the five year-old son had ADHD. His mind wondered off frequently, but his teachers didn't mind because he aced every test they handed him.

His creativity was high, even though he was only in kindergarten. He asked great questions, and was never displeased the the answers he received.

Or maybe the dad was an alcoholic and an abuser.

Maybe, instead of owning a coffee shop, he was an employee at Target because he never finished high school.

And maybe the wife wasn't a doctor, though she always dreamed of becoming one, but worked behind the counter at a candy shop.

Maybe the daughter had just found out that her boyfriend had cheated on her.

Maybe this was the reason her grades slipped.

Her A-s had become B+s, then B-s, then Cs.

And then Ds.

Then D-s.

Then Fs.

And that five-year old son had seen more pain than any of his classmates combined.

And nobody noticed their struggle.

Nobody noticed the slight sway in the way the husband walked into work, or the bags under his eyes.

Not his hand, which was still slightly pink from that morning, when he'd gotten mad at his wife for a trivial thing. And certainly small not the red stain on his white t-shirt, so expertly covered though not impossible to see.

Nobody noticed the shattered look in the wife's eyes as she checked out candy for the kids.

She hated herself for it, but every time she saw one of their excited little faces she couldn't help think:

"Kid, there's no reason to be excited. This might be the happiest you ever feel. They're lying to you when they say that you're unique, and smart, and are destined for greatness."

Maybe she's the only employee that won't cut a kid some slack if they're short a dollar.

And maybe the daughter was spiraling into a state of depression.

The three things in her life that had actually been good had turned sour. Her grades had slipped, her boyfriend had left her, and her best -only- friend had been the one her boyfriend had cheated on her with.

It was the reason she had started to notice the toxic manner of her best friend. The way her friend cared more about herself than anything else.

The daughter ignored it at first. She could live with hearing about how her friend was enjoying being with the daughter's ex boyfriend.

As long as they're happy, she told herself.

Then the best- no, not best, fake- friend dumped him.

When the daughter asked her fake friend about it, she brushed it off and said "I got bored. You can have him if you want."

And though she hated that lying, cheating bastard, she still loved him. It took all her willpower not to to try again with him.

Because she was better than that little skunk, wasn't she?

She had too much self-respect to go back to him, didn't she?

And they couldn't be soulmates, because then he wouldn't of cheated on her, right?

She was about to break it off with her fake friend when a thought hit her like a ton of bricks.

However fake her best friend was, she was still her only friend.

Nobody seemed to care about her problems, so why should she fault her best friend for it?

So she stayed.

The five-year-old son still had ADHD, but his teachers had no idea how to handle it. They forced him to pay attention without any distractions,  which only worsened his attention span. He still had great questions, but they were too frequent and required much too long explanations to be seen as insightful.

And when he put up his hand to ask a question in the middle of a teacher's sentence, the whole class groaned. The teacher nearly yelled at him to put his hand down and listen.

The wife, daughter, and brother knew that only one person had cared enough about them to notice.

The wife's older sister.

Despite being two years apart, the siblings were close in a way that not many were.

They loved each other, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

That was, until she committed suicide three years ago due to outstanding gambling debts.

I don't know which story is more true for either of these scenarios, but I know that one is not more likely than another.

This was much better-written in my head, sorry. I promise I'm okay, lol. Thanks for making it all the way through this, I know it's not the type of thing I normally write.