Parameter

7:50pm
Thursday, 01.24.08

It happened. The green of the grass was not at all sincere. She was told so, but what does it mean to tell anyone anything? The warning is rarely ever enough. Even the warnings one provides oneself with are rarely heeded. Somehow, the warnings against things are rationalized such that whatever is being warned against becomes far less threatening.

Cinderella knew there was no way it would work out. Cinderella usually always knows that it will not work out but can never convince herself to walk out, leave it alone, give up, or quit while she is ahead. She walks right into the fire, slowly, and is always shocked at the degree of her burns. Stupid ass girl.

Cinderella realized on Wednesday that she had reassumed her usual post of casualness. She does not mean anything, dispensable, replaceable, unimportant, a receptacle for his stress. Stupid ass nigga.

And Cinderella cried while she wondered. She cried and her face became so hot and the tears felt so cold and her wondering made no more sense. She cried until her pumpkin carriage arrived in the driveway. She had been sent home by the Prince, stilettos and heart in hand.