Return Of The Fly

My head is buzzing like a minor thunderstorm is brewing behind my forehead. It's raining on the television, and the volume, it's so loud it makes me feel like one of those ominous clouds are hovering outside the window. Here's what you're missing, right now. We're watching a court drama, a jury is trying to decide whether or not a teenage boy is guilty of murdering his father. Our teacher is cutting butterflies out of paper not three feet from me. I'm going to ask him to make one for me, and tell him that I have tiny paper cranes, so tiny that perhaps they were make with a pair of tweezers. This is what you're missing. Let me tell you a secret: There are people, here, that miss you, too.

But you know, this day wouldn't be quite as lovely if it were any different. I feel just a little tinge of loneliness, and a little cold. I'm wrapped up in my long coat, and though I may feel sad, there's some paper butterflies fluttering on the table. So it's a lovely day. See, just like the cold makes you feel grateful for your coat, loneliness makes you grateful for what's beautiful.