I Just Had to Lick the Cookie, Didn't I?
Element
I've been waiting, wish I was watching you
In the daylight, a perfect view
This is always a favorite of mine.
Said I don't want to go 'cause it means I'd have to throw this element of mine aside
What if I don't want to be the lonely one?
The truth I know is this:
I don't want to miss you more than I already do
I've been screaming my lungs out
'Cause I'm wishing you were here with me now
I'm impatient I apologize a million times
But I'm human and I'm selfish
Got the feeling I should deal with this, but I'm hiding
No one knows, they don't
So what if I don't want to be the lonely one?
The truth I know is this:
I don't want to miss you more than I already do
At sunrise I find a new releasing
And moonlight creeping sounds of you tonight
Are you finding?
I still need to know that you find amusing memory
What if I don't want to be the lonely one?
The truth I know is this:
I don't want to miss you more, oh
What if I don't want to be the lonely one?
The truth I know is this:
I don't want to miss you more than I already do
Than I already do
---------
I didn't say a word as Milo and I climbed into the car. He had gone to rent one for my sake. The plan was to go to the funeral and make an appearance at the luncheon afterward. We skipped the wake; I couldn't have gone if it was my life on the line. Seeing Faith's face again would kill me itself. There was no service though, just the casket being buried.
Milo was silent as he drove down the roads. His silence was appreciated.
Nothing could have prepared me for the funeral. Nothing. Not a detailed paper about everything that would happen, not a picture of everyone there, nothing.
Ever since we'd been in Rochester, the weather had been dreadful. Personally, I didn't mind, but it didn't exactly help the situation.
Rain beat down for hours on end, making everything around me grey and foggy. It wasn't until we arrived at the cemetery that it died down to a drizzle.
"Are you ready for this?" Milo asked, looking at me and attempting to see into my eyes. I kept my gaze away and my mouth clamped shut. On the ride to the death yard I'd thought all about everything. Facing my parents and family members would be harder than I had originally expected it to be, considering I knew something I hadn't known before.
Of course I had thought about the whole arranged marriage thing before. I had thought about what could go wrong, and what could go right. All of the ideas flowed into my head like nothing I could have ever imagined. And then out of nowhere, it hit me.
Why Milo was being forced into a marriage was clear to me. It was sort of a normal thing that he should have expected, something I'm sure he had expected somewhere deep inside. Surely his parents were only doing what was best for him, even if they may have some issues. Milo needed this; he needed some sort of security. He needs something that he can hold onto; a family. His money and fame are just a wall blocking that from happening. After all, who could trust anyone when you're that well-known and well-to-do? See? It all made sense to me.
However, why I was being forced into this is completely different story. Yes, my father is a lawyer, but we aren't known world-wide. We aren't famous and insanely rich. No, we were an average family. I'm not being cynical or childish by declaring that I hate my parents and the world. I have every god damn right to say those things, especially after everything that I've gone through.
It was never really the guilt that tore me apart. Obviously I felt guilty, but most of the time, there are people to support the poor souls that feel that way. Maybe I watch too many movies and read too many books, but isn't that how families are supposed to respond to this kind of accident? Are they not supposed to hold you and tell you it isn't your fault? I always thought they were, but apparently I was wrong. So eventually the guilt built up and became more than guilt, it became shame.
Ever since the accident, people had blamed me. They never came outright and said it, but I could tell just by what they didn't say. Normally people that don't blame you tell you it wasn't your fault. Guilt and blame go hand-in-hand.
There were people at our house constantly. They tried to comfort my parents, telling them it would be alright and it would all be over soon. My parents are the ones that took the longest to realize how they actually felt about it. I had had hope in them; a hope that they wouldn't turn their backs on me and walk away, but they did.
At first it was just the look in the eyes of everyone. I would try to enter the room where my parents were cuddled together, but someone would shoo me away. Next it was the glares, and then the body language. It only took a few weeks before I knew for a fact that my family had turned against me. They had banded together to gang up and kill me. I was sure of it. The killing part never came, but they did manage to beat the shit out of my emotions.
After a while I just stopped coming downstairs. I stopped eating, and no one noticed. They never brought food to me anyway. The school never really cared that I wasn't coming anymore. My next step in my already obvious depression was the cutting. No, I didn't slice my wrists to feel alive; I stabbed and cut my palms to punish myself for not having enough guts to just die. No one ever noticed that either.
Eventually my parents came around and had everyone leave. Not long after that, they took me to the hospital with them. I was forced into the room to see my practically brain dead sister. To this day I still can't tell if it was because they wanted me to feel even worse, or they thought it's what I wanted.
At the hospital, a doctor noticed me. For the first time in about two months, someone spoke to me without a venom and hatred in their voice. He talked to me at first, just trying to befriend me, but I shut him out, kept myself at a distance from any potential emotional kills. I'd had enough of people stomping all over my feelings and taking advantage of how horrible I felt.
Once he realized who I was and what was going on, he started to talk more medically to me. He was still friendly and caring, but he urged me to have help. Everything he explained made sense in a far off corner in my mind, but my body just wouldn't have it. Somehow he managed to prescribe medicine for me, for my sanity.
It worked for a while, but while I was out of my haze I realized more than I wish I had. Faith's horse was gone. All of our horses were gone. The dog was gone too. Poor old Gabe. That's when the nightmares started. With all of my new discoveries, I couldn't sleep. I would lie awake and think about everything. When I did fall asleep, it was like a trip to hell with no escape. As a result, I stopped taking my medicine.
Oddly enough, my mother noticed. She noticed and made me take it. Actually, she was so determined to make me take it, she'd put it my food---which made me eat less---or physically put it in my mouth and make me swallow. Not fun.
Well, all of that points to one thing. My parents aren't marrying me off for my own good. All they want is to get me away, to never see my face again. It's hard to deny it when the truth is in the process of sawing your insides in half. You can tell me it's not true all you want, but I can never believe a single word that makes them sound innocent again. They made me the way I am. They made me blame myself. They made me feel the way I feel. They fucked me up.
The small white coffin was lowered into the ground. I clenched Milo's hand with the mindset of crushing every bone. Stifled cries and sniffles from my mourning family members made me feel guilty for not letting myself cry. It's all I could do. Letting them see me weak was not going to happen, not today.
Everything the priest had said went in one ear and out the other. His words meant nothing to me. However, when words started coming out of my grandmother's old wrinkled mouth, I made myself focus.
"Faith was a beautiful young girl. She was talented and vibrant. It's sad to see her gone---" she started to choke up. One of her old wrinkly hands reached up to wipe a tear away. "She would have been a great person; it's too bad she was the one to go." To me it was obvious that my grandmother was implying that I should have been the one to go. My entire life I've know that she hated me. For a while she was civil to me, and then the whole Faith thing happened... You know a person hates you for no reason when they refuse to hold you as an infant. Sad but true.
Once everyone was finished saying some words, dirt was thrown into the hole. It made soft thumps as it hit the hollow box encasing my sister. My dead sister... The sister I killed...
The last bit of dirt was packed on to Faith's grave, although it really wasn't dirt anymore. More like mud.
"May you rest in peace," the priest said, blessing her final resting place. Everyone made some sort of gesture before turning to leave. Before they all actually made their way away from the grave, they looked at me. Not a single one of them looked sympathetic. Not one.
"I need to be alone, just for a minute," I told Milo after everyone was far enough away so that they couldn't hear. Even the priest was gone.
"You won't do anything stupid, right?" he asked, looking me in the eyes. I swallowed and nodded.
"Nothing stupid," I promised weakly.
"Alright, I'll wait in the car. Our flight leaves in three hours, don't take too long please." Again, I nodded. As Milo took his first step to leave, I turned to look at Faith's headstone. I was just reading her name when I felt a tug on my hand. It took me a minute before I realized it was Milo and glanced over at him. Turns out I hadn't let go. So, I freed his poor hand and watched him leave.
Falling to the ground---once Milo was out of sight---I let myself cry. I cried like a baby. A giant fucked up baby.
"I'm sorry; so, so, sorry. If I had only known..." I sniffled. "Nothing will ever change what I did, but I hope you'll forgive me. I love you Faith. You were the best sister I could have ever hoped for. Lord only knows how hard I hoped..." I closed my eyes then and imagined her face the way it should have been; full of life and beauty. "I miss you. I miss you so, so much." Now she's going to stay that way forever. Forever she'll remain young and bright, constantly in company with so many wonderful thoughts and peace...
Just one very selfish thing came to mind when I thought about that:
I don't want to be the lonely one.
In the daylight, a perfect view
This is always a favorite of mine.
Said I don't want to go 'cause it means I'd have to throw this element of mine aside
What if I don't want to be the lonely one?
The truth I know is this:
I don't want to miss you more than I already do
I've been screaming my lungs out
'Cause I'm wishing you were here with me now
I'm impatient I apologize a million times
But I'm human and I'm selfish
Got the feeling I should deal with this, but I'm hiding
No one knows, they don't
So what if I don't want to be the lonely one?
The truth I know is this:
I don't want to miss you more than I already do
At sunrise I find a new releasing
And moonlight creeping sounds of you tonight
Are you finding?
I still need to know that you find amusing memory
What if I don't want to be the lonely one?
The truth I know is this:
I don't want to miss you more, oh
What if I don't want to be the lonely one?
The truth I know is this:
I don't want to miss you more than I already do
Than I already do
---------
I didn't say a word as Milo and I climbed into the car. He had gone to rent one for my sake. The plan was to go to the funeral and make an appearance at the luncheon afterward. We skipped the wake; I couldn't have gone if it was my life on the line. Seeing Faith's face again would kill me itself. There was no service though, just the casket being buried.
Milo was silent as he drove down the roads. His silence was appreciated.
Nothing could have prepared me for the funeral. Nothing. Not a detailed paper about everything that would happen, not a picture of everyone there, nothing.
Ever since we'd been in Rochester, the weather had been dreadful. Personally, I didn't mind, but it didn't exactly help the situation.
Rain beat down for hours on end, making everything around me grey and foggy. It wasn't until we arrived at the cemetery that it died down to a drizzle.
"Are you ready for this?" Milo asked, looking at me and attempting to see into my eyes. I kept my gaze away and my mouth clamped shut. On the ride to the death yard I'd thought all about everything. Facing my parents and family members would be harder than I had originally expected it to be, considering I knew something I hadn't known before.
Of course I had thought about the whole arranged marriage thing before. I had thought about what could go wrong, and what could go right. All of the ideas flowed into my head like nothing I could have ever imagined. And then out of nowhere, it hit me.
Why Milo was being forced into a marriage was clear to me. It was sort of a normal thing that he should have expected, something I'm sure he had expected somewhere deep inside. Surely his parents were only doing what was best for him, even if they may have some issues. Milo needed this; he needed some sort of security. He needs something that he can hold onto; a family. His money and fame are just a wall blocking that from happening. After all, who could trust anyone when you're that well-known and well-to-do? See? It all made sense to me.
However, why I was being forced into this is completely different story. Yes, my father is a lawyer, but we aren't known world-wide. We aren't famous and insanely rich. No, we were an average family. I'm not being cynical or childish by declaring that I hate my parents and the world. I have every god damn right to say those things, especially after everything that I've gone through.
It was never really the guilt that tore me apart. Obviously I felt guilty, but most of the time, there are people to support the poor souls that feel that way. Maybe I watch too many movies and read too many books, but isn't that how families are supposed to respond to this kind of accident? Are they not supposed to hold you and tell you it isn't your fault? I always thought they were, but apparently I was wrong. So eventually the guilt built up and became more than guilt, it became shame.
Ever since the accident, people had blamed me. They never came outright and said it, but I could tell just by what they didn't say. Normally people that don't blame you tell you it wasn't your fault. Guilt and blame go hand-in-hand.
There were people at our house constantly. They tried to comfort my parents, telling them it would be alright and it would all be over soon. My parents are the ones that took the longest to realize how they actually felt about it. I had had hope in them; a hope that they wouldn't turn their backs on me and walk away, but they did.
At first it was just the look in the eyes of everyone. I would try to enter the room where my parents were cuddled together, but someone would shoo me away. Next it was the glares, and then the body language. It only took a few weeks before I knew for a fact that my family had turned against me. They had banded together to gang up and kill me. I was sure of it. The killing part never came, but they did manage to beat the shit out of my emotions.
After a while I just stopped coming downstairs. I stopped eating, and no one noticed. They never brought food to me anyway. The school never really cared that I wasn't coming anymore. My next step in my already obvious depression was the cutting. No, I didn't slice my wrists to feel alive; I stabbed and cut my palms to punish myself for not having enough guts to just die. No one ever noticed that either.
Eventually my parents came around and had everyone leave. Not long after that, they took me to the hospital with them. I was forced into the room to see my practically brain dead sister. To this day I still can't tell if it was because they wanted me to feel even worse, or they thought it's what I wanted.
At the hospital, a doctor noticed me. For the first time in about two months, someone spoke to me without a venom and hatred in their voice. He talked to me at first, just trying to befriend me, but I shut him out, kept myself at a distance from any potential emotional kills. I'd had enough of people stomping all over my feelings and taking advantage of how horrible I felt.
Once he realized who I was and what was going on, he started to talk more medically to me. He was still friendly and caring, but he urged me to have help. Everything he explained made sense in a far off corner in my mind, but my body just wouldn't have it. Somehow he managed to prescribe medicine for me, for my sanity.
It worked for a while, but while I was out of my haze I realized more than I wish I had. Faith's horse was gone. All of our horses were gone. The dog was gone too. Poor old Gabe. That's when the nightmares started. With all of my new discoveries, I couldn't sleep. I would lie awake and think about everything. When I did fall asleep, it was like a trip to hell with no escape. As a result, I stopped taking my medicine.
Oddly enough, my mother noticed. She noticed and made me take it. Actually, she was so determined to make me take it, she'd put it my food---which made me eat less---or physically put it in my mouth and make me swallow. Not fun.
Well, all of that points to one thing. My parents aren't marrying me off for my own good. All they want is to get me away, to never see my face again. It's hard to deny it when the truth is in the process of sawing your insides in half. You can tell me it's not true all you want, but I can never believe a single word that makes them sound innocent again. They made me the way I am. They made me blame myself. They made me feel the way I feel. They fucked me up.
The small white coffin was lowered into the ground. I clenched Milo's hand with the mindset of crushing every bone. Stifled cries and sniffles from my mourning family members made me feel guilty for not letting myself cry. It's all I could do. Letting them see me weak was not going to happen, not today.
Everything the priest had said went in one ear and out the other. His words meant nothing to me. However, when words started coming out of my grandmother's old wrinkled mouth, I made myself focus.
"Faith was a beautiful young girl. She was talented and vibrant. It's sad to see her gone---" she started to choke up. One of her old wrinkly hands reached up to wipe a tear away. "She would have been a great person; it's too bad she was the one to go." To me it was obvious that my grandmother was implying that I should have been the one to go. My entire life I've know that she hated me. For a while she was civil to me, and then the whole Faith thing happened... You know a person hates you for no reason when they refuse to hold you as an infant. Sad but true.
Once everyone was finished saying some words, dirt was thrown into the hole. It made soft thumps as it hit the hollow box encasing my sister. My dead sister... The sister I killed...
The last bit of dirt was packed on to Faith's grave, although it really wasn't dirt anymore. More like mud.
"May you rest in peace," the priest said, blessing her final resting place. Everyone made some sort of gesture before turning to leave. Before they all actually made their way away from the grave, they looked at me. Not a single one of them looked sympathetic. Not one.
"I need to be alone, just for a minute," I told Milo after everyone was far enough away so that they couldn't hear. Even the priest was gone.
"You won't do anything stupid, right?" he asked, looking me in the eyes. I swallowed and nodded.
"Nothing stupid," I promised weakly.
"Alright, I'll wait in the car. Our flight leaves in three hours, don't take too long please." Again, I nodded. As Milo took his first step to leave, I turned to look at Faith's headstone. I was just reading her name when I felt a tug on my hand. It took me a minute before I realized it was Milo and glanced over at him. Turns out I hadn't let go. So, I freed his poor hand and watched him leave.
Falling to the ground---once Milo was out of sight---I let myself cry. I cried like a baby. A giant fucked up baby.
"I'm sorry; so, so, sorry. If I had only known..." I sniffled. "Nothing will ever change what I did, but I hope you'll forgive me. I love you Faith. You were the best sister I could have ever hoped for. Lord only knows how hard I hoped..." I closed my eyes then and imagined her face the way it should have been; full of life and beauty. "I miss you. I miss you so, so much." Now she's going to stay that way forever. Forever she'll remain young and bright, constantly in company with so many wonderful thoughts and peace...
Just one very selfish thing came to mind when I thought about that:
I don't want to be the lonely one.
♠ ♠ ♠
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