I Hear You

1- Yellow Wicker Basket

<Matthew Erwin>

When I was fourteen, I made a yellow wicker basket for my sister, Angela. It had plastic blue flowers twined with some of the wickers. I remember crying for hours, trying to make the wicker basket attractive. I put so much effort into it. It took me around a month to finish it. Then when I gave it to my sister on her twelveth birthday, she just shrugged. All that effort went down the drain. She didn't even care for it.

That yellow wicker basket experience reminded me of how us people are. How we react around others and treat others especially. We put all our hard work into our appearances and then give ourselves away, to please others. We put flowers on our faces, and diamonds in our eyes. Then once we've built our confidence to hand us to them, they just shrug. Like we're just another wicker basket.

But for some reason though, they accept us. Maybe for our use, attractiveness, or they need us. They fill our basket with things that maybe are important to them. Sometimes, they fill it too heavily, causing us to snap.

Once the plastic blue flowers twine off, the diamonds in our eyes don't sparkle anymore, the yellow fades, and the wicker breaks, they replace us with another yellow. wicker. basket. Where do we go? Do they send us back, or do they throw us in the trash?

They throw us in the trash, not even glancing back. And around us? It's more worthless wicker baskets. We'll never be fixed, we'll never be mended. We're just here, taking up space.

"Excuse me, sir!" A voice called from the distance it seemed. I blink back into the present, unaware of what's going on.

"You just missed the train. Luckily, the next one is supposed to be here in about forty-five minutes," there was a woman talking to me. By the lilac dress suit she wore, I assumed she was some sort of businesswoman. "Uh, sir? Are you okay?" The woman's hand pressed on the back of my shoulder, trying to make sure I was alright.

I blinked again, finally answering her "oh! I'm sorry, ma'am." I said awkwardly. I stepped back from her soft hands and reassured her I was fine. "It's been a long day, I was only sinking."

"Sinking?" She asked in confusion. I would have explained what I meant by sinking, but she changed the topic. "Never mind, I just wanted to check you were alright. You were staring blankly at the train while it boarded," she smiled warmly.

"Thank you," I nodded my head, and I let her walk away. 

When I think about it, there are beautiful women everywhere I go. In my eyes, women are exactly like yellow wicker baskets. They pretty themselves up and cover themselves. Kind of like the plastic blue flowers. When they become useless and broken, they're trashed. Just like the rest of us.

I waited for about forty-five minutes for the train, following what the kind woman said. She was true, the 9:45 PM train was right on schedule. I'm grateful for that woman. I would've had to walk for about twenty-two blocks if I had given up on hope.

I boarded the train quickly, surprisingly, there was quite of bit of people here. However, it was quite an unusual bunch. There was a man, looked around fifty, with a salt and pepper beard, he stared at the ground, grinning. He held onto a bottle, wrapped in a paper bag. Every few minutes, he'd take a huge swig of what I presume is liquor. 

Across from me was a rather ... obese woman. I have nothing against of obesity, but it what was what she wore that made me uncomfortable. In thirty-five degree weather, this woman wrapped herself in a stretched out, pink, spaghetti strap tank-top with jean shorts that some could tell that she cut herself. I would reward her for her bravado act, but she might take an offense to that.

It really amazes me of how many types of people there are. Again, similar to wicker baskets. Some are tall, some are short, some are yellow, some are pink. Old or new, green or blue, they're all different. It's ... diverse!

***

When I finally got home, I nearly dropped to the floor of my small apartment. With the little amount of strength I had left, I crawled to my bedroom and collapsed onto my bed. My bed never felt so satisfying. It was probably the overwhelming exhaustion diffusing throughout my body. At last, my slumber has reached upon me.

As I let my eyes fall into place, I heard a voice.

"Oh bloody hell, why won't this big oaf move out of my way?"

I sat up, weirded out. I must have left the TV on. I stumbled my way into the living room, to only discover that the TV was off.

"I swear to the wonders of insanity and back, I will start screaming if this oaf won't get off his phone! THE LIGHT'S GREEN, GO! " The same screaming British voice rang in my head.

I looked around the apartment, in absolute distress. Who on earth was talking? And who's not getting off their phone? What're the wonders of insanity? Why is there some British man speaking in my head?

I began to think I was going insane. I tried to think of a solution, maybe reassure myself. 

I told myself I was tired. Sometimes people hear voices when they're tired, right? 

Then I freaked out, asking myself I was crazy. 

Then I heard the voice again:

"Now where's that darn superstore. Man, this city is bloody confusing."

I decided I was going crazy.

***A/N***

Woah, ho, guys!

<To the newbies>

Okay, if I'm new to you little sweeties, hi! Welcome to my story.

Now this story is my first ROMANCE story, so I'm extremely new at this.

If you have any tips or suggestions, please feel free to comment away. Anyway, thank you for reading this; I hope you'll join me for chapter 2! I'm going to try and post every Thursday. Warning though, I tend not to be consistent. So if I don't post in like a year,<exaggeration, haha> it doesn't mean that I've given up. 

Thank for joining the family, bye I love you guys.

<To the oldies>

Hey family, thanks for coming back.

Now I know what you might be thinking, "ROMANCE, Missy?" I know, I know. But I swear I'm not going to be those types of writers that's going to write hot, sexy, vampire, romance. I'm not that cool. LGBTTTT+ THOUGHHH! WHOO!

Thanks for crawling out of the hell hole I've made for you, and reading more of my content. Go you if you're still reading Ms. Tilly. Thanks guys, I love you all.

-MissyKZV