Short Story: The Problem Of Being In Love

Dear Reader,

It’s been a long time, but the last months I didn’t really feel like writing. But I actually miss it, so I’m picking it up again. For English class we had to write a short story, and I liked the way mine turned out, so I decided to share it with you. It’s a little sad, but that’s also my mood right now, so, it all fits together. i don’t want to talk to long about this, cause it’s not really important, I just have to find a spark again, to clear up my days and be a little more happy. Enjoy reading, and I’ll write soon.

Love, Laura Grace

The problem of being in love

When I was 5 years old, I was told that I was in love. This was in fact not true, but all children in my class were teasing me because I gave my packet of chewing gum to Toby.  He didn’t even give it back to me. Being 5 years old I did not know what being in love was, so when I came home I asked my mom. She told me that being in love was magical; it felt like you were in heaven and like you had butterflies in tummy. I didn’t know what heaven was, but I certainly knew what butterflies were and also that they weren’t supposed to be in my belly. So I decided to take the being in love out of my belly. I did not know the best way to get butterflies out, but decided to try to poop them out. I think I spent an hour on the toilet but with no butterflies to show for it. I looked down at my tummy and poked it. No response, no single move. Where were the butterflies?

That night I went to bed with an unpleasant feeling. I wasn’t happy. Not about anything. I didn’t understand why my mom was so thrilled about the being in love. I couldn’t find a single (any) positive thing about it. The classmates weren’t positive about it either, at least, they teased and taunted me with it. But how could they know that I have butterflies in my stomach, when I didn’t even know it myself? I fell asleep and slept restlessly.

The next day at school the other kids were still making fun of me. Toby was there too, he was very annoying and kept asking stupid questions. In the break we went out to play, but I didn’t feel like playing, and certainly not with all of them. So I stayed on the side on my own. I had no problem with that, it was actually kind of pleasant. But then, of course, Toby came over and sat beside me. I shifted to the side a little, so that we weren’t touching each other. His cheeks were flaming red and he looked nervous. I just looked at him indifferently. Then he started stuttering and then I finally understood what he was saying: “I’m in love with you.” That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. After processing what he just said, I went all crazy kinds of mad. Did he just say that he had put the butterflies into my tummy? Was he the reason that I was being teased? I shouted at him, as hard as I could: “I HATE YOU! WHY DID YOU PUT BUTTERFLIES IN MY TUMMY?” And then I stormed away. I was mad to over my ears. This was crazy. The teacher came up to me and wanted us to solve our fight, but I just kept shouting in anger, and ended up on the “naughty chair” for the rest of that day.

When I came home I wanted to get those butterflies out of my tummy once and for all. I could only find one solution: They had to be cut out. I walked to the kitchen. Mom wasn’t there, she was in the living room. I climbed up the countertop and picked a big sharp knife out of the cupboard. I pulled up my T-shirt and held it with my chin to expose my belly. Then I took the knife in my hands and pointed it at the center of my tummy. One, two, three… and the knife went right through me. I screamed. Loudly. My mom came running into the kitchen and screamed, too. After that I did not hear anything anymore.


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