Creative Writing, Flash Fiction

It Doesn’t Matter Really

The little emo boy running out of breath, running along the wet road outside looks like he’s late too. It’s a nice feeling when you know your not the only one. I guess you’re never really the only one. Everything has been done before, everything will be done again. So none of it matters really.

The girl who just got on the bus has no idea the back of her head is covered in green stuff. The smell is potent. I’m hoping it’s conditioner or hair grease. But some of it is moving I don’t know how normal that is. I wonder if I should tell her. Hmm. Someone has probably told her already, and if not someone else will tell her later. It doesn’t matter really.

Everyone seems to be running this morning. There’s a jogger in red, keeping up with us. We’re stuck in traffic and she’s jogging really fast. But the guy with the cigarette in his mouth, the one that we passed, haha, he’s running for this bus. He has no chance. I know it’s mean, but there’s humour in it. It’s the first thing that has made me laugh all morning. Now I cant stop smiling, thinking about it all. I feel like I need to let this laugh out, it’s beginning to choke me, but I know everyone will look, and then I’ll be all embarrassed. But who are they to judge me, they laugh in public too, I’m sure. I only have one judge, and it’s none of them.

Well, that’s taken away my laugh. I’m sure it’ll come back so it doesn’t matter really.

I think it’s a great skill to be able to stop worrying about everything, and just acknowledge life, other people around you, and analyse their actions. No, it doesn’t matter what they’re doing, nor what they think about your public laughing, or anything else, but all that you’re worrying about doesn’t matter either, not really.

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