"What i am going to say about myself most people dont have the balls to say about themselves, but it's what i really think so if you care at all (which i know you don') try not to look to deep into my depression because all though it is the truth about how i feel that doesn't make it the truth and if it was the truth there would be nothing you or anyone else could do about it. So you might as well accept it like i have and just say "well, thats nice" after reading it and go back to your meaningless life. Thats right, I said meaningless."

The teapot made a valid point. I could relate to him on this level, of feeling meaningless anyway. For one thing, the efforts that i did put forth into the day usually brought no benefits to my liking. I was working towards nothing, so my life was sort of meaningless. I told the teapot that I thought what he was feeling was not abnormal. Most teapots felt that way, even though they were too proud to admit it. And who could blame them? "I mean, come on. No offense" I told him, "but you ARE a teapot. I'm sure most teapots feel the way you do. But life as a teapot can't be that bad, can it? For one thing, you stay quite warm" I tried to reassure him. It didn't work out as I had planned.

"I hit myself. I hit my spout. On objects, mostly. Walls, rails, posts,spoons; anything to take the attention off of the pain that goes on in my brain while i'm thinking these things. Mostly, its an overreaction. And than, i think i am also punishing myself. Punishing myself for existing. there is absolutely no reason why i should exist. I hurt the ones i love, and the ones i love i only love out of selfishness or spite. Or I don't love anything, because I am too imperfect for love."

"Tisk-tisk! calm down! you are hyperventilating! And don't say that! Surely you aren't too imperfect for love! Thats a dreadful thing to say about ones self! You said it yourself that you hurt the ones you love, so that means you love something! Love can not be done out of spite or selfishness. If you truly love something enough to let it hurt you this bad, it has to be real"

but i hit myself until it no longer hurts. It starts to feel good, really. I can breath again, my face temperature returns to normal, i can think straight, and i dont hate myself anymore after that.

I blinked at Tisk-tisk. That poor teapot had really got itself worked up. This sometimes happened to me, but usually i just took a deep breath and made myself a nice cup of tea. I was stumped. I had no clue how to cheer the teapot up. I figured i should just wait for the right moment to interject a compliment about Tisk-tisk's spout and how shiny it was. I knew that would make him feel better. I let him continue.

"The first bruise I gave myself I laugh at."

Tisk-tisk paused like he was waiting for me to make a joke. He didn't laugh, he looked dead freakin serious as a teapot could ever look. He lowered his voice and his tone got sadder and less frantic sounding.

"The second one is sad though. I should have known better than to hate myself enough a second time. Why do i hate myself?"

I really couldn't respond. Things between the teapot and I were getting way too deep. They say that sharks can attack you even when you are wading in waste deep water. Crazy huh?

"I have no control over the fact that i have to exist. I'm being forced to. I hate myself because I am conforming to the life im being forced to live. I know what i love, and i chose to lose the things i love so that i can watch them float away. I am sinking. Watch as i reach up and gasp for air. There are no hands to find when im frantically thrashing and blinded and confused and wishing i could either breathe fresh air or never breathe any again ever. The latter is honestly much more entising. The bottom seems so much closer than the top, and anyway once i get to the top i will be lost and alone and probably die anyways of being tired. And i am tired. I want the tide to wash me away, my body becomes limp. It is carried and carressed by the ocean and no longer has to submit to the will of its own fate. Now it is free...it is not alive but it is free."

I could only imagine how it felt to be made of metal and melted down into the mold of a teapot, forced to hold the water of human consumption in your belly for all of eternity, boiling it and cooling it down as they please..controlling your screams by turning up the flames and thrashing you about sideways, emptying you out bit by bit until there is nothing left but hot air, steam, and rust.

Suddenly I was extremely excited that I was human and I was able to chose my destiny. I didn't want to remind Tisk-tisk of this though, because I was afraid he would start crying, and good lord don't you know thats a dreadful noise! Instead, I felt as if the tea-pot was making a valid point about its life. At least the tea-pot refused to live a lie, you have to give him that much. I decided it was more than necessary to let him finish. So I did

"And being dead is the only way i can ever feel free. This torture is unbearable. I wish more than anything it didn't exist, just like me. "

"Is that the end of your story, Tisk-Tisk?"
"Yes, human. There is no more to tell"
"Your done, your sure?"
"Absolutely. Of course"
"Theres nothing you would like to add?"
"Nothing"

Silence.

"Thanks for telling me a story that matters"
"Your welcome, human. You know, the only thing that matters is the truth"

I nodded my head. He was right. But that didn't cover up the fact that I happen to love dreaming about Kool-aid giants...almost more than anything.

Chapter 3

Now there happened to be a somalian octopus by the name of Rafiki. I once had a pet spider in my room, near my jukebox (yes i have a jukebox in my room). I named that same spider Rafiki, and you know come to think of it he really did remind me of an octopus. But not a Somalian octopus, just a regular one. By now your probably thinking to yourself; "what is the difference?".

The difference is that Regular octopus's are not pirates. So Rafiki liked to hang out near the reef. For that reason he was known as the infamouse Somalian Reefer. He was sought after by many military men. There was a reward for his head, and also an award for every one of his...what are those things called again? Oh well...

Moving on. Rafiki was swimming along in the reef one fine night. The tide was going in, and so he was slowly drifting towards the beach against his will. He was busy thinking about the last lady octopus he had inked, when suddenly he heard a "brumfrumfrum" comming from the deep dark rift down far far far below him.

"My goodness! What the hell fuck shit is that noise?! I better not check it out and swim far far away from it as fast as i can!" And so he did.

Octopuses are notorious for being octopussys, no matter how somalian they are.

He swam so fast and was so scared that he didnt even notice when he hit the shore. He just kept on swimming, until he swam right into the grey elephant. At this point  I believe since we assigned the Somalian Octopussy a name, we should assign the Dumb Grey Elephant a name as well. But we won't. Because that would be a serious waste of brain power. How do you expect me to think of a name for an elephant? That would take time, money, and thought...two of which i do not have enough of. If i wasted the little i do have of them, i wouldnt have enough to complete the story. I would have to end it with the name of the elephant.

 

the elephants name was pooh.