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Cry Me A River
Author's note: So this all started in the middle of last year. I just wrote this, but I'm no longer in the place where I feel as if crying is my only option. I'm happy :) ...thank goodness.
Is it wrong that I’ll purposely listen to a song that I know will make me sad, just so I can cry? Is it weird to feel whole only when I’m crying because then I know I actually care about something? I’ve been living my life so long as if I possessed no emotions; it makes me feel human when I can prove that I, do in fact, have the ability to feel.
The hot air hit the back of my neck, making me feel as if I could evaporate at this very moment. It was hot, and I was stuck walking home from school. My feet shuffled back and forth, and I looked down at the nails of my toes which were painted it black. The nail polish on my toes had certainly lasted far better than the polish that clung to my fingernails, chipped off and peeling in numerous places. Roughly, I scratched at the paint on my pinky nail and watched it crumble and fall to the ground. My nails always aggravated me to no end. I sighed and continued on with my walk home.
As I reached my front door, I pulled my keys out of my shoulder bag. I unlocked the door and stepped into the house, re-locking the door behind me. After, I flung my bag onto the counter, and I grabbed a soda from the fridge. Quickly, I called my mom and told her I was home; then I took a seat upon the floral couch that sat in my living room. Turning the TV on, I saw the Tyra Show was playing; so I watched it. It was a show about women self-empowerment or something as cliche in subject. I enjoyed it though.
I ended up falling asleep and my mom had to wake me up when she came home at five o’clock. She didn’t like me taking naps because she was afraid I wouldn’t be able to sleep that night; which would affect me getting up for school the next morning. I sat up to be sure that I wouldn’t fall back asleep. While she changed from her work clothes to her ‘at-home’ clothes, I glanced at the TV…Dr. Oz was showing now so I just turned the TV off because I would be leaving soon anyways.
My mom re-entered the living room and announced she was ready to leave. I got up and we headed to the door, walking to the van that was parked in the driveway. That night we ate at a local restaurant. I had a bacon ponyshoe. For those who don’t know what a ponyshoe is, it’s a layer type of meal; a piece of bread on bottom, then a couple of bacon strips, french fries sit on top of the bacon, and the whole dish is topped off with cheese sauce. As we ate, my mom and I discussed each other’s day; she questioned how much homework I had and I asked if her day was bad or good. It was a normal and typical conversation between us.
Since I was adopted, I didn’t have a dad. For the past fifteen years it had always just been me and my mom; so we were very close. I felt as if I was able to tell her anything.
After finishing our meal and paying the bill, we left the restaurant and started on our way back home.
Later that night, I became very bored while working on my homework, so I decided to check the computer. I logged into Facebook, scanning through my news feed, occasionally hitting the “like” button on particular posts that I found endearing. There was a certain post that caught my eye. A boy who I didn’t personally know but had added a few months back because he went to school with my best friend had a status that matched my way of thinking perfectly. I read through the status again: We are all basically unattached to anything or anyone unless we’re pretending.
My feelings about people were harsh; everyone always left in the end, even if they promised not to. So far in my life, I had never tried to get close to anyone because I knew it would end in heart ache eventually. That status made me feel as if there was proof in the complicated process called life; attachment is just a figment of the imagination. I debated on whether or not to press the ‘like’ button; I didn’t want him to think I was some sort of creeper since I didn’t actually know him, but it just fit my life so well. I moved my mouse over the blue word, and clicked it. It updated instantly, displaying the words of “You like this” right under the status. I refreshed the page and when I saw there was nothing fascinating in my news feed, I logged off and finished up my homework.
After fifteen minutes of doing nothing, boredom once again seized my mind so I re-logged into Facebook. One new notification. I clicked on the picture of the blue little world with the red number 1.
Brody Cale has commented on his status.
I was surprised because Brody was the owner of the status in which I had previously liked. Hurriedly, I clicked on it to read the comment. Was he trying to talk to me? I didn’t know.
Sick Puppies fan?
That’s all the comment said. I had known the status must’ve been a quote from somewhere, but now I was finding out it must’ve been song lyrics…belonging to a song obviously by a band named Sick Puppies.
Not really. I just thought it was sorta true.
In reality, I had never even heard of the band Sick Puppies. But I couldn’t say that outright. I wanted the conversation to continue, but I was afraid that what I had just said didn’t leave much to reply to. A couple seconds later I was proven wrong, though, when I received a reply.
Oh, well you should check out some of their stuff. They’re pretty good.
I felt like I needed to take a hold of this conversation to be sure that it continued. After thinking a few seconds, I typed out a perfect statement that would be sure to get a reply. And I was right…the conversation didn’t continue on Facebook forever, but he told me to text him. A moment later, I texted him and at first we talked about music, but the conversation slowly shifted to a more casual subject.
Over the next week I was texting Brody from the second I got out of school, to the second I had to go to sleep at night. It was nice, always having someone to talk to. I told him things that I started to keep from everyone else. At first we were only ‘friends’ but I knew it would turn into more than that. Soon, we went from casually talking to “talking, talking”; the type of talk that leads to dating. Not long after that declaration, we went on what he called a date. A double “date.”
It was more like two sets of people meeting each other for the first time. We were at the movie theater, and he was with his friend Peter while I was with my friend Leslie. I was generally a quiet person, and tonight it was truer than ever. Although I didn’t talk to him much in person, I was ecstatic because I knew that…I liked him. I could definitely say that now, after meeting him.
Once the movie ended, my mom picked me and my friend Leslie up and then dropped her off at her house. As my mom started to back out of Leslie’s driveway, she asked me if I thought I liked Brody…I was very pleased to say yes. Right there in that moment, I was genuinely and utterly happy.
I got home and realized that I had somehow left the movie theater without properly saying goodbye to Brody. Quickly, I sent him a text stating that I was sorry to run out so soon but I had to get home to finish up some homework. It took him a while to respond, and as the time passed and still no text, I would inwardly flinch; completely afraid I had screwed up everything.
Finally, I got a reply…and I was relieved to find out that I hadn’t screwed up anything at all. In fact, it was revealed that he was as pleased as I was about how the night had gone. Since it was just a first meeting, it was pretty much just a time for us to get a bearing on the situation; to just see each other in person. Apparently, he liked what he saw because he told me I was prettier than he expected. I probably would’ve blushed a bright shade of crimson red if that had been said in person, so I was secretly thankful it wasn’t.
A few days later we met up again, just me and him. Only this time we went for a walk around my neighborhood. Mostly, he was the one talking and I would only occasionally nod or ask questions. When it came to one on one time, my tongue always escaped me and I never knew what to say. I hated it, but he didn’t seem too bothered by it.
We sat on the swings and he told me he liked my nails. I let out a short laugh because I had never received such a compliment. My nails wore a freshly painted coat of dark black nail polish…it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for me. Almost every day I would re-paint my nails black because it would chip so harshly on a daily basis. Secretly, I found it very satisfying that he liked something that I already achieved and had on a daily basis. It was effortless.
After the swings became boring, we went back to my house. My mom wasn’t home, and we just sat at the kitchen table still talking about the most random things. When she arrived, she introduced herself to Brody and they exchanged a few short snippets of conversation. My mom disappeared into her room, and he told me he had to leave. Before he walked to the door, he gave me a hug and I told him good-bye.
I didn’t see Brody for a week, two weeks maybe. We had made plans, but they kept getting broken because he was sick. His eye had developed an infection of some sort, a scratch… I wasn’t sure. But he did tell me that he would no longer be able to wear contacts, so he would have to wear his old glasses again. At first, I was a little dismayed at this news but I was able to adjust to the idea quickly.
When we were finally able to hang out again, we met up at a local festival. We took a seat on the bench of a picnic table and watched the fireworks. Personally, I didn’t like fireworks…but it was a time when my quietness had a perfectly acceptable excuse; so I didn’t mind the fireworks that much tonight.
Once the bright lights disappeared from the sky and all became silent, he suggested we go for a walk. So we did. It was dark and had been raining all day, so moonlight glinted off of the road, clearly displaying how rain slick it was. Conversation flowed freely and openly on this walk. The amount of words exchanged from the other was equal; it was a natural conversation. It felt so good to be able to talk to him, and carry on a conversation…something that I normally wouldn’t be able to do with just anyone.
Frogs hopped along the sidewalks, each one frightening me anytime it got too close. There were big frogs and little frogs; they would always come out of nowhere and it would always leave me with a little gasp escaping from my mouth and a tiny jump. I think Brody found it amusing.
We found ourselves walking halfway across town, and a light sprinkle of rain began. It was no big deal at first, but as it got heavier we decided to start heading back to where he had parked his car. By this time we were both almost soaked and his hair, which normally stood up in a tidy fo-hawk, now hung limply across his forehead. He had to keep wiping the raindrops off of his glasses, and for some reason that always brought a little smirk to my face. It was…oddly cute? It was foreign to me to feel…close to someone for once. We found his car and he drove to my house. He asked if he were able to come in and I gladly allowed it.
Once again we just sat at my kitchen table, talking. My mom was already in her room, so we weren’t disturbed. Glancing at the clock, he said he had to leave; but he asked to talk to me outside. I got up and followed him to my door, yelling to my mom I would be right back.
It had stopped raining, and the air had that fresh smell…the weather was that perfect kind; the mix between warm and cold, like being hugged in a blanket. He asked me to be his girlfriend, and I gladly accepted. Then he kissed me. My first kiss.
I didn’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t what happened. It was better. I couldn’t stop smiling, so my face had been unmoving…if that fact alone had ruined the moment, I didn’t care because it was perfect to me. The kiss was simple and fast, a little peck, but it seemed like it was just long enough for me to remember it the rest of my life. And I will remember it, always and forever. He gave me a hug, a long hug…at least it seemed unending. I didn’t really know about much, I was too revved up on the excitement that started to play out in my mind and imagination. He got in his car and drove away while I quickly went inside to tell my mom about the pool of happiness that was bubbling within me all due to me having received my first kiss.
This happiness, the blissful peace of the world around me, the constant contentment of every fiber of my being, didn’t last long. A mere month later, it was over…he ended it. My mind at first, I think, was numb; it had yet to register what exactly I was losing out of my life. Our time together hadn’t been much, but looking back now…it had meant a lot to me. They say it’s the thought that counts, and although that deals with mainly presents, it holds true in this situation too. Our relationship had been nowhere near perfect, but I could see and feel how the words he said always complimented the words that left my lips beautifully.
Now, here I am. Two months after our break-up, and I’m just now feeling the sting of it. Why did I always have to be so messed up? This was the time that I should be getting over it…not just now getting sad and gloomy about it. But no matter how hard I tried to be happy, I always found myself listening to the saddest break-up songs I could. I relished the hot tears that dripped down my cheeks, leaving black rings of eyeliner and mascara around my eyes. Lying there alone in bed, I would think of all the great memories I harbored…and that just let the flood gates of my emotions open. Tears poured, no sound ever escaped my body though. If I had sobbed and truly let my emotions get the better of me, I felt as if the world would hear and question the idiocy that my heart held. After all, why should I still miss Brody after I had only known him a total of two months? I had already had two months to mend any wounds that could’ve been done to the internal portions of my body, so I should be over it, right? No, not at all. Not even a little bit.
Cannon Falls, Minnesota
Mount Berry, Georgia
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