Fake isn't Reality

I think it's funny how girls don't think we guys notice the little things, words spoken under-breath, that new outfit, the way you styled your hair this morning, that secret look spoken between best friends, we notice it... and even more so, we love to cause it. I like to notice the little things, in fact I even search for them.
"Are you sure you don't want a burger or something?" Kitty asked Jelly as she stuffed her mouth with french fries.
"Yeah, I'm not hungry." Jelly repeated for about the sixth time today.
Jelly had slept over last night and this morning I even made breakfast extra special, but she didn't eat any of it. She complained that she might be coming down with a stomach bug or something, and Kit shrugged it off with no concern. She may of had Kitty fooled...but she sure as hell didn't fool me, because the way her eyes gleamed...like they could burst into tears at any moment...the way she sat with her arms folded and her legs crossed so tightly. She was trying to hide something...herself.
I shot her a concerned stare, but she broke it quickly and looked the other way.

Last week Jelly had come up to the DX just to hang out, as she always did on her days off from school when the other girls were busy.
"Soda," she said, "do you think someday I could be like one of these girls in this magazine?"
I was in the middle of fixing an engine which held my whole concentration, so I unintentionally threw her question over my shoulder and gave an answer that didn't require too much thought.
"I think you can be whoever ya want." And I meant it, but that's wasn't what the situation was calling for, and I hadn't realized it at the time.
I was cleaning up the garage just before leaving work, long after Jelly had left. I picked up the magazine she was referring to when she asked me that question. Why would she want to be like one of these girls? The ones who have shiny Photoshopped skin, that flawless tan, the perfect makeup, usually dressed in something that didn't even cover half their body. Those girls aren't real, you see...after the lighting is back to normal, and the cameras are all turned off, those girls go back to being normal. Because truth is, their hair isn't perfect, their skin isn't flawless, and most of their attitudes aren't ones I'd like to be around. Everything they are is fake. Why be like that when she can be just the way she is? I didn't see anything wrong with her, and I see the little things remember?        

Bad Dream

I felt my shirt clinging to my damp chest as my eyelids fluttered open. My heart was racing, and I could feel the blood pumping all the way down through my toes. I was careful not to wake Pony as I crawled out of bed and made my way to the living room couch. Today marked two years since the accident, since mom and dad died, since I dropped out and started working full time, since Darry was claimed as my legal guardian.
I began flipping through the family albums, studying pictures from birthday parties, Christmases, family vacations. Life was simpler back then, back when someone told you what time to be home by, told you you couldn't go out with friends, most kids my age would disagree with me, they long for freedom from their parents, but to be under the influence of my parents again was all I wanted. They told me what I could do and when to do it, now all my decisions were reflected only upon myself, and I wasn't yet ready to be the supreme authority of my own being. People my age shouldn't have to make the decisions I've made, I was forced to learn too early how to take care of myself, when in reality, I still wanted someone to take care of me.
"Bad dream?" I looked up to see Pony emerging from the hallway.
"Always." I said.
I had the same dream this time every year. The accident replays over and over in my head, eventually stealing me from sleep. Pony plopped down on the couch beside me, laying his head in my lap.
"How do you think it'd be.....ya know, of they were still here?" he asked.
"I dunno," contemplating his thought, that I secretly thought so often. "just like it was before I guess."
"You mean without Darry being an ass?" he replied.
We laughed a bit, "He's not an ass Pony.....he's just got more worries than he used to."
Pony sat up, "yeah yeah, that's what you always say."
"Think about it like this, would you be ready to be a dad to your three younger siblings at nineteen years old?" I asked.
Pony thought a minute, staring at the floor. "I guess not......especially not to you." he playfully shoved me.
"Pssht, I'm the easy one kid." I said.  
"Well I'm going back to bed." Pony said, "You commin?"
"Yeah." And then I closed the album and tucked it neatly back in it's place.