Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head | Teen Ink

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

July 8, 2010
By Toria3339 SILVER, Newport Beach, California
Toria3339 SILVER, Newport Beach, California
9 articles 0 photos 13 comments

If someone asked you to describe yourself in one word, would you be able to? I am not able. Is that bad? If someone asked you to jump off a cliff, would you? How tall is the cliff? Is that the wrong answer? If someone asked what would you do if you had one day to live, what would you say? I don’t know. I don’t have enough time to answer. What do I do?

I worry people, I think, because of my cynical behavior and output on life. It is not cynical really, it is just the truth. I cannot understand what people think when they see me, or listen to me. Do they like me? You did right? But you are not here anymore.

She called again. I heard the phone ring and I saw her number. I couldn’t bring myself to answer it though. I new she would just want to talk about you and I don’t want to.

I think that people can’t really describe themselves. I cannot describe myself because I have my mind and so my mind only knows what goes on in it. It doesn’t know what is happening outside. To really get a good answer about who you are, you have to ask someone who knows you really well. So well, better then you know yourself. So, who am I? Oh, wait, you cannot answer. You are gone.

She keeps calling. She knows I am here and she keeps calling. The phone will not stop ringing. I should just answer it right? Shouldn’t I? You would. Wouldn’t you? Yes, I know you would because you were smart, and you always did the right thing. So I should be like you right? Or should I? I mean I am here and you aren’t. So what has doing the right thing done for you really?

I answer anyway. The ringing wont stop if I don’t. She knows I am here, she always does. I don’t know how but she does.

“Hello?” I say into the phone as if I don’t know who it is. As if this isn’t the modern age with caller I.D.

“Hi, how are you. I’ve been trying to call for over an hour” She said.

“I am fine.” Was all I brought myself to mutter.

“Good. That’s good.” She paused to collect her thoughts I’m guessing “I know that things have been hard for you Sis, but just know I am here for you.”

“Uhuh” I nodded as if she could see me “Well I’m sort of busy so I have to go bye”

“Oh, b…” but I hung up before she finished.

It is not like I blame her for what happened to you. It is nobodies fault but your own. But the simple fact that she was there and I was not makes me angry. But I cant blame her. She was not driving. You were.

Right now I am weary, drained by the pain that you have caused, and if someone did suggest that I should jump off a cliff, I don’t even know if I would care how tall it was. In the end I would get to be with you wouldn’t I? Would you like me still if I did that? Of course you would. Because you always accept people for who they are and what they do, even if they were mistakes. You accepted me, that is. Your first mistake.

Before I jump off the cliff, I would make sure I said good-bye to everybody I loved. I don’t want to do what you did to me. You didn’t say good-bye. I know that you loved me. Didn’t you? I did. Did you though? What does it matter anyway? You are gone, and those words will never be muttered from your mouth to me. You are gone. I should jut accept that.

It is raining now. It is April. It is giving May flowers. I remember when you gave me flowers. They were lovely. I told you I didn’t like roses, so you gave me an orchid. My favorite.

I can see the rain drops land on my window and slide down like a tear upon a cheek. It is like the tear that escaped through my glossy eyes on to my red blotchy cheek after I heard about you. You. Perfect you. Always doing the right thing. Always saying the right thing. You were the right thing. You deserve to be here. I always do the wrong thing. I always say the wrong thing. I am the wrong thing. So why am I still here?

It is poring now, and somewhere there is probably an old man snoring, although I don’t know how he can sleep with the rain hitting the window so hard. I want to go outside and feel the raindrops fall on my head. Like the song. Raindrops keeping falling on my head, but that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turning red, but they are. I am crying now. Look what you have done to me.
Thank you though. For everything. I was a cynic. But when I was with you I was an idealist. I was romantic. I was nice. I was everything that you wanted. I know, because you told me.

I wiped away the tear that escaped my eyes like the rain that escaped from the clouds, and I remembered You as the person who made me better. Thank You.

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This article has 1 comment.

AsIAm PLATINUM said...
on Aug. 25 2010 at 10:29 am
AsIAm PLATINUM, Somewhere, North Carolina
48 articles 3 photos 606 comments

Favorite Quote:
"According to some, heroic deaths are admirable things. (Generally those who don't have to do it. Politicians and writers spring to mind.) I've never been convinced by this argument, mainly because, no matter how cool, stylish, composed, unflappable, manly, or defiant you are, at the end of the day you're also dead. Which is a little too permanent for my liking." — Jonathan Stroud (Ptolemy's Gate)

I loved it!  You're character is awesome, and I love the structure.  Great writing! ~AsIAm