I wanted to say something profound, but sometimes life just doesn't turn out the way we want it to, you know?
It's like the whipped cream on a Sundae. You think that's the best part, until you realize it's just whipped cream all the way down, that the Sundae doesn't really exist. The ice cream is a lie. Suddenly what you've got doesn't look at all like the sort of thing you wanted. Sure maybe others tell you to shut up, eat it, and be happy with whatever life brings you. That's easy for them to say, with their cherry-topped banana splits and dewy glasses of malt shake. They probably amuse themselves living out their days idly sniffing the rose-scented perfume on bouquets of solid gold geraniums and sucking the goo out of Twinkies. What you wouldn't give just to have someone understand you, if even a little bit. So you follow behind, pretending to be content with the discarded hulls of hollowed out sponge cake, maybe even convincing yourself that it's what you wanted all along. But the lie turns to bile in your throat. You can't ignore it any more. Soon enough you'll have to eat the whipped cream, cause there's nothing else to do. It's that or you lick the toes of the giants that hold up the stars, which is just as bad as it sounds until you realize where they're standing. Then it's worse. So you resign yourself to a life of cream, forsaking eternally the hope of a better existence. That's when the final calamity hits you: the spoons are gone, and all you've got is a fork.