I've Realized Now I'll Never Become Anything

Sometimes it really is the little things.
January 09, 2007 12:27 PM

Behind my condo in Michigan, there is a beautiful pond. During the summer it's always filled with flowers, ducks, and two waterfalls. Although it seems a bit premature, the ducks came back today.

For some reason, this dry winter has left me with bloody knuckles (literally), and a huge weight on my shoulders. Today, it seems as if the ducks coming back has lifted the weight...and I feel so good I find myself actually smiling.

This has been one of the hardest winters I have had to face to date. Not due to the weather, or dryness, but...as in, I tend to think much too often, and psycho-analyze every aspect of everything far more than I should.

This morning, I awoke with a different feeling. Waking up to the quacking, I immediately went around and opened every window as wide as they could go (even though it's only 41 degrees out today). Then proceeded to leave the house, for the first time in what seemed like forever. The fresh air was exhilarating as I walked down to the pond, and just sat...thinking. Boy, did I need that.

Thank you ducks, for coming back. I hope that you don't leave anytime soon, and accidentally take this feeling with you.

For a moment, it came to my attention that something so simple could make him the happiest. It came to my attention as I read the ink that I may be doing something so wrong; I may be trying too hard. Simple gestures and actions allow people to take more into consideration. And if everything was so simple in life, then he'd be okay.

A week later, after he wrote one of his last entries in his diary, it showed me how much he desired to be happy. How much he wanted a change in his life. Everyday, he does something destructive to himself, and he knows, as well as I, that this isn't the lifestyle he wishes to go forward with. Reading his diary is enabling me to see a different side of him that I've never really seen before; a different side from the one that I know.

It's not a secret to anyone that I'm trying to help him. He knows it; the band knows it. Anyone who knows how he is, and how much I care for him, understands that I will do anything in my power to correct what has been wrong for years. And because of this, he allows me to enter his mind, and in a way that he won't allow any physical entrance. But through his diary, he permits me to see what really goes through his conscience.

Something he understands in himself, is the ability to take what people say and do for him, and think about what they did for days. Analyzing every ounce of the action that occurred. Though he understands what he does, he may not understand what someone else does for him right at any given moment. But eventually, through all of his thinking and analysis, he'll comprehend. Even if it may be too late.

He sees things that others do not. Which makes me think that's why he is, the way he is. Destructive and controlling. He sees that fans and people in general expect too much from him, but others, they don't visualize that. They only think they want him to do what he needs to do, not even realizing that just that, is asking too much.

And he expects something out of what he does. Which is the sole reason he's...different. Craigery wants so much from his fans, and that's confusing for him, since they want so much from him. He can't handle everything by himself. The adrenaline takes over his frail body, and that's the cause for his wounds. It's the reason why he bottles up the pain before releasing it in a way that's anything but graceful.

Distant quacking peeled me away from Craig's entry, closing his book and setting it into his nightstand drawer, allowing him knowledge that I've read it. He places it on his pillow when he has desires for me to read. Carrying my feet to the bedroom window, I saw Craigery, sitting on the grass near the water with his knees against his chest, throwing small pieces of bread to a few ducks in front of him. A small smile played at his lips; he was happy. The pond and the ducks clearly changed him.

Grabbing a light hoodie off from the kitchen chair, I headed out of the apartment, strolling behind the condominium and getting a view of Craig's back and a curtain of dirty blonde hair. His hand jerked out towards the dark water as I inched closer; the ducks hastily went for the bread and attacked each other to keep it for themselves.

Craigery's head snapped back, staring at me as I stepped on a pile of twigs, breaking them into smaller pieces. His lips curled heavenward when he realized it was only me and not just a random person stealing his thinking sanctuary. He patted the grassy spot next to him, allowing me to stay outside with him.

He broke half of his slice of bread he just took out from the bag, handing it to me slowly with the same sleepy smile he always has on when he's content. Smiling back, I happily take it, peeling a piece and tossing it to the water for the ducks. Craig chuckled as I threw another piece into the water, throwing one in himself. I chuckled too, for the moment of calmness and tranquility was too great.

Moments like these are what Craigery lives for. This is who he is. A calm, caring young man who is in the process of finding himself. It's these moments that make me happy, because to see that even if it doesn't last very long, he's happy too. But when good arises, when something so great comes along Craigery's way, something happens where it just goes away.

He sighed loudly; the ducks flew away from a car out in the distance revving up their engine. Craig threw the entire piece of bread he had left into the water in hopes that the ducks would magically re-appear. But his actions seemed to have failed and his happiness soon died. Craig sighed again in defeat, bringing his knees in closer to his chest. I took this as an opportunity to scoot closer to his cold body and lean my head against his shoulder.

"Would you believe me, Craig," I whispered, getting his attention; his face turned to look at mine, "if I said that everything is going to be okay?"

His arm wrapped securely around my shoulders, pulling me even closer to his frame; I wrapped my arm around his waist from the back. I could hear his breathing, still calm but yet so fragile. His heartbeat was the same if it were to be compared. But that's how I knew he was still okay.

Craigery pressed his lips to the top of my head, rubbing my upper arm as he did so. Resting his cheek in the spot where he kissed me, he sighed softly. "I love you, Penelope."

And at that point, I knew he believed me.