Note to the Chapstick I left under the couch for about a month
Look, it wasn't my fault, so I don't know why you're so upset with me. If anything, it certainly wasn't deliberate. Many factors came into play as to how you wound up staying under there, but I won't get into too much of them for the sake of brevity.
You see, many moons ago I fell in love with one of your forefathers. I don't think he was a father per se, but he resembled you. A lot. He might have been a different flavor, however. Needless to say, at first I was hesitant to put him on my lips. There was just something about him, you know? This little tiny stick taking its cap off and rubbing it all around the outside of my mouth - I mean who does that? It's kind of rude. But soon I found out that it was not rude, and very much necessary. He was a blessing in disguise, especially after brushing my teeth.
Our relationship blossomed. Soon I was using him multiple times a day. It felt divine crossing my lips, rendering my chapped visage obsolete while putting seldom-seen smiles on my face. I was ready to tackle the day thanks to him.
But then, one day, he ran out. No more. What the hell? Who just leaves like that. I'm not too sure where he ended up. I quickly got on the rebound and got myself another one. This one was some sort of "medicated" variety. Big and strong and got the job done - almost better than your forefather there. We had a nice, brief romance. Until he too just ran out on me.
I started to get used to the rejection after weeks and weeks of deep moisturizing lip passion. The suitors came and went, dressed in different labels and flavors and colors. I'd stock up on them, rotating three or four different tubes at a time. It was almost exhausting, but I stayed on top of it like a champ.
In short, I became a lip balm whore. And I've been one ever since.
And so around this time about five weeks ago, you landed in my lap. Or my hands, really. You were in such a rush to leave your packaging that you shared with your twin brother! I tried peeling the thin cardboard from you and your brother's plastic resting place, but clearly failed. You bobbled off my hands and straight down to the floor. The brother made it. He's safely in the top drawer of my bedside table, as he's been the last few weeks.
But, something just didn't feel right. He needed company. He had company, but you left. Escaped! Left like all other other losers once I was through with them. But, I wasn't through with you. I barely knew you. I didn't get the chance to really learn about you. You had bigger dreams. Apparently those dreams involved being on the floor, but whatever. Once you fell, I took a brief peek to see if you were nearby. See, I care, I totally do. But you were nowhere to be found once you hit the floor. At that moment, I had a unique decision to make: either I look for you, or I enjoy the fact I nabbed your brother. Unfortunately for you, I felt happy with the latter, and have been using him in your absence.
In the weeks following, I became heavily distracted. Food, drinks, life, personal things, food, drinks, and drinks. I left you there, alone and helpless, under the couch. Maybe you made friends with the dust bunnies, I don't know. They're regulars around here, and unlike your forefathers, never want to leave.
So that's my story. I hope you can forgive me. And while I know we'll have to part ways eventually, what's so wrong about enjoying each other immensely until that time comes?
Look, it wasn't my fault, so I don't know why you're so upset with me. If anything, it certainly wasn't deliberate. Many factors came into play as to how you wound up staying under there, but I won't get into too much of them for the sake of brevity.
You see, many moons ago I fell in love with one of your forefathers. I don't think he was a father per se, but he resembled you. A lot. He might have been a different flavor, however. Needless to say, at first I was hesitant to put him on my lips. There was just something about him, you know? This little tiny stick taking its cap off and rubbing it all around the outside of my mouth - I mean who does that? It's kind of rude. But soon I found out that it was not rude, and very much necessary. He was a blessing in disguise, especially after brushing my teeth.
Our relationship blossomed. Soon I was using him multiple times a day. It felt divine crossing my lips, rendering my chapped visage obsolete while putting seldom-seen smiles on my face. I was ready to tackle the day thanks to him.
But then, one day, he ran out. No more. What the hell? Who just leaves like that. I'm not too sure where he ended up. I quickly got on the rebound and got myself another one. This one was some sort of "medicated" variety. Big and strong and got the job done - almost better than your forefather there. We had a nice, brief romance. Until he too just ran out on me.
I started to get used to the rejection after weeks and weeks of deep moisturizing lip passion. The suitors came and went, dressed in different labels and flavors and colors. I'd stock up on them, rotating three or four different tubes at a time. It was almost exhausting, but I stayed on top of it like a champ.
In short, I became a lip balm whore. And I've been one ever since.
And so around this time about five weeks ago, you landed in my lap. Or my hands, really. You were in such a rush to leave your packaging that you shared with your twin brother! I tried peeling the thin cardboard from you and your brother's plastic resting place, but clearly failed. You bobbled off my hands and straight down to the floor. The brother made it. He's safely in the top drawer of my bedside table, as he's been the last few weeks.
But, something just didn't feel right. He needed company. He had company, but you left. Escaped! Left like all other other losers once I was through with them. But, I wasn't through with you. I barely knew you. I didn't get the chance to really learn about you. You had bigger dreams. Apparently those dreams involved being on the floor, but whatever. Once you fell, I took a brief peek to see if you were nearby. See, I care, I totally do. But you were nowhere to be found once you hit the floor. At that moment, I had a unique decision to make: either I look for you, or I enjoy the fact I nabbed your brother. Unfortunately for you, I felt happy with the latter, and have been using him in your absence.
In the weeks following, I became heavily distracted. Food, drinks, life, personal things, food, drinks, and drinks. I left you there, alone and helpless, under the couch. Maybe you made friends with the dust bunnies, I don't know. They're regulars around here, and unlike your forefathers, never want to leave.
So that's my story. I hope you can forgive me. And while I know we'll have to part ways eventually, what's so wrong about enjoying each other immensely until that time comes?