ArchieTheFel
Born to ":3", forced to "Hi, welcome to the store"
Sometimes, when I'm feeling especially sad, I like to cut strawberry cake. Ironically, I don't like strawberries, but sometimes it just feels nice to cut the cake.
When no one is looking, I'll sneak into the bathroom and cut myself a slice. My knife glides easily through the soft frosting and the layers of pale cake, until eventually I reach the layer of oozing, strawberry preserve. It spills over, but not by much, and it stains the pale cake a little bit as it falls. Again, I usually don't like strawberry cake, but sometimes just the processing of slicing it is enough to make me happy.
Sometimes, I do feel guilty, though. Nobody knows I'm cutting cake, and I'm too afraid to tell them because they might get mad at me for doing it. Perhaps in their eyes, I've ruined a perfectly good cake. Maybe they'd find it odd and argue that I don't like strawberries, so I shouldn't do it anyhow. But I can't help it--some days, I just need to slice the strawberry cake. It at least takes my mind off of everything else for a moment, and instead I sit and stare at the strawberry ooze for a while. It doesn't make much of a mess, so when I'm finished I put all my things away neatly, and clean up what little mess I did make. Then I hide the cake to make sure no one knows that I've cut it. I'll go to bed and wake up tomorrow, putting a smile on my tired face.
Nobody will ever know what I've done. Nobody will suspect that I've cut the strawberry cake.
When no one is looking, I'll sneak into the bathroom and cut myself a slice. My knife glides easily through the soft frosting and the layers of pale cake, until eventually I reach the layer of oozing, strawberry preserve. It spills over, but not by much, and it stains the pale cake a little bit as it falls. Again, I usually don't like strawberry cake, but sometimes just the processing of slicing it is enough to make me happy.
Sometimes, I do feel guilty, though. Nobody knows I'm cutting cake, and I'm too afraid to tell them because they might get mad at me for doing it. Perhaps in their eyes, I've ruined a perfectly good cake. Maybe they'd find it odd and argue that I don't like strawberries, so I shouldn't do it anyhow. But I can't help it--some days, I just need to slice the strawberry cake. It at least takes my mind off of everything else for a moment, and instead I sit and stare at the strawberry ooze for a while. It doesn't make much of a mess, so when I'm finished I put all my things away neatly, and clean up what little mess I did make. Then I hide the cake to make sure no one knows that I've cut it. I'll go to bed and wake up tomorrow, putting a smile on my tired face.
Nobody will ever know what I've done. Nobody will suspect that I've cut the strawberry cake.
