moved.'s Journal [entries|friends|calendar]
moved.

[ userinfo | greatestjournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | greatestjournal calendar ]

[11 Jan 2008|05:49pm]
“I confess, yes, our fall was all my fault. If you kissed my eyes, your lips would taste salt but you think my regret is a lie, and the tears I cry are the crocodile kind. The sweat on your upper lip starts to boil, white hot with anger, still convinced I’m your fail. You keep fighting me, though my eyes are free from crocodile lies. You, yes, you linger inside my heart. The same you who stopped before we could start. I didn’t want to leave, but you began to believe your own crocodile lies. The only person stopping you is yourself. You won’t accept that I want no one else, so until you do, I'll let someone else have you. Everyday I live the lie but not the crocodile kind.”
-MEGAN MCCAFFERTY, SECOND HELPINGS

“Today our society revolves around stereotypes. A first glance can quickly determine the impression a person will give you for eternity. Stereotypes do not pity whether you’re black, white, fat, thin, blonde, brunette, obnoxious, or the sweetest person alive. The portrayal someone gives you before one word is spoken is all that matters. Walter Lippmann once said, ‘For the most part we do not first see, and then define; we define first, and then we see.’ Impoverishing as they are, stereotypes are not easy to get rid of. However, if we exclude the embarrassing pictures about stereotypes that hang in the gallery of our minds, we will be able to extinguish the stereotypes that are actively adapted to our society today,” Elisha spewed the final sentence out to fast and glanced over to Kellen, her best friend, “It sucks, doesn’t it? I bet it sucks. I can’t do this. I should just do what I always planned – become a hippie who smokes all the time and wastes her day away on the porch.”
Kellen was Mister Dependable and always had been. He was Elisha’s rock when she was stuck in a hard place…which happened more often than not. It was the first day of college when they met, and they absolutely hated one another. He was too snobby, she was too laid back. Kellen wore his pants too high and Elisha didn’t care enough about her personal hygiene. They didn’t speak about that horrible past but they did often speak about the moments they bonded on. The University of Montreal had brought them together. It was a horrific day; the rain fell from the skies like liquid from a watering can and the classes which were typically held outside on the grass were being held in doors. Both Elisha and Kellen were there, clad in their University sweats ready for their introduction to theatre class. It was a very cheesy theater class, mind you. The first exercise they had to go through was the typical trust exercise which has been played out on movies and televisions decades before they came around. Mr.Lippert, the teacher who wore a little too much cologne and not enough deodorant, paired them together. From then on it was a back and forth spat for five minutes. ‘I don’t want you touching me.’ ‘I don’t want your stinking hands on this shirt.’ It went on for minutes before Mr. Lippert threatened to kick them out if they didn’t cooperate. Uneager, Elisha fell back into Kellen’s arm and they both escalated back into the lounge room floor. Yelps, screams, and flailing arms were only few of the sights and sounds you’d hear as everyone busted into laughter; including Kellen and Elisha. From that moment on they weren’t seen as two one-somes but a two-some, in a completely platonic way of course.
“It’s fine. It’s good. Elisha. Calm down. Get into your mellow zone, butterflies and bunnies, honey. Butterflies and bunnies. Ready, breathe. 1…2…3, in and out. Butterflies and bunnies. It’s good, there’s no way you won’t get accepted into the program. You’re a shoe in!” Kellen fell back onto the apartment bed with a ‘thump’. He understood how important this speech was to Elisha. After all, this would show whether or not she would be accepted into the apprenticeship at Morefield Hospital. Acting had been something she had a passion for her entire life, but once she began doing it for a living it soon faded from her heart. Now, the medical field had become her passion. Elisha spent the past few years of college going toward becoming a doctor. This apprentice ship was going to become the beginning of everything for her.

THE NEXT DAY….
It was 9 a.m. and the sun was finally beginning to peer through all the windows at the auditorium. This speech was something she planned for in detail for the past three months. Every free moment (not to mention those moments she had at the studio) was devoted to making the best speech she possibly could. Now, the day was here. In a crisp new pinstripe suit she stood in the back stage area as someone who she was convinced wasn’t nearly as devoted to the medical profession as she was stood before a huge crowd reading a speech. Kellen, her mother, and a multitude of her friends pushed through other families to get front row seats. Besides the judges, they would be the only thing in the entire auditorium she would be able to focus on. It was a lot of pressure; she could feel the stress coursing through every vein in her body from the tips of her pedicured feet to the top of her short, light blonde hair. Tick, tock, tick , tock, tick, tock. The sound from the clock pounded through the course of the room like it was being amplified by a huge speaker. “Elisha, it’s your turn,” an elderly hand rested upon her shoulder as the Stage Director guided her to the stage. Her eyes closed briefly, praying to God she would be able to talk infront of a bunch of people she didn’t know. She prayed she’d be able to correctly convey the emotion she was trying to perceive. The moment she made her way out on the stage, it felt like her speech had taken over her entire body. Seeping with confidence, she made her way to the podium and began her speech. “Today our society revolves around stereotypes. A first glance can quickly determine the impression a person will give you for eternity. Stereotypes do not pity whether you’re black, white, fat, thin, blonde, brunette, obnoxious, or the sweetest person alive. The portrayal someone gives you before one word is spoken is all that matters. Walter Lippmann once said, ‘For the most part we do not first see, and then define; we define first, and then we see.’ Impoverishing as they are, stereotypes are not easy to get rid of. However, if we exclude the embarrassing pictures about stereotypes that hang in the gallery of our minds, we will be able to extinguish the stereotypes that are actively adapted to our society today,” Elisha took a deep breath to pause and continued with her introduction, “I am a walking stereotype. You are a walking stereotype. Medicine…medicine doesn’t have…” The flow of the voice slowly drifted off into a murmur as her eyes set on him. He was the last thing she needed to see when she was trying to start her life. Ryan had been everything she could ever want in a man. Sensitive, caring, daring, respectful; he was someone she could see her life built around. They had dated for four years until that day happened. Elisha’s world fell apart around her that day and while she should have been focused on the speech that could begin her life as a medical practitioner she was too focused on the memory that haunted her mind.


“I’m sorry,” she pleaded, gasping for air like the next might be her last. The tears stung her cheeks and surely, if he was to kiss her, each kiss would have lingered with salt. Her cheeks were crimson from acting out. How could she show him, she had to show him. She’d do anything for him. She’d walk across the desert sand in search of the last drop of water. She’d become whatever he wanted her to be. Her whole life would mold into whatever he wanted her to be, whatever he needed her to be. After all, she had been putty in his hands since the moment they met. Her world was so tiny without him, and with him he was the only thing that mattered.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. Her heart wasn’t the only thing breaking because her knees buckled as she fell to the couch. It was more than just love. It was everything. It was the smell of his hair right when he stepped out of the shower. It was the way he’d chuckle after she’d say something silly and she’d tease him by calling him Santa Claus. It was the way he new exactly what to say to fix the mediocre problem she was facing. She always missed him more when he was there. He’d always been doing his thing and she’d always been doing hers. The time they spent apart was said to make them stronger but she was a mess without him. When they were together it proved to her how devoted to him she was. When it was late at night and he was asleep she’d turn over on her stomach and watch him. Her fingers would run through his hair and she tried to imagine what he was dreaming of that moment. Am I apart of his dream? Does he think about me as much as I think about him? After a few minutes, her eyes would become heavy and she’d fall into him. Somehow his arm would wrap around her, almost like he knew she was watching him, but of course he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” her arms extended out for him but the hand which always held hers was frozen solid at his side. “I don’t need you,” he whispered. His voice cracked and for a moment…for a split second she didn’t believe him. “I don’t need you,” he said again and he licked over his lips.

It was in 2005 when he said he needed her for the very first time. After going through a rough patch the only thing he needed was to escape from everything. She wouldn’t let him. Her hand would find his and she pulled him into the park. “I remember these swings. When I was little, I fell off them and broke my arm. I thought it was the end of the world, you know? I thought I would never be me again. I sat in bed for two weeks and wouldn’t go to school. All my friends would come up to my room with cookies and with Barbie dolls. I turned every one of them away. I was so angry at the world. My mom sat me down and told me I couldn’t wait for the world because it wasn’t going to stop for me. Just because something bad happened to me didn’t mean there wasn’t people in the world who didn’t wanted to help me through it.” Brushing a piece of hair from her face, she took both of her hands and laced her fingers with his. “Just because something bad happens to you, doesn’t mean there isn’t someone who wants to help you through it.” He looked down at her and he smiled. His hands escaped hers and they rested on her neck, and they slowly made their way up to cup her face. “I need you,” he whispered, “I just need you.”

“I don’t need you,” he said firmly and finally turned away from her. Why’d he turn away, she thought. Was it because he didn’t mean it? Was it because if he took one look at me he’d smile and forget everything he’d say that he didn’t mean? They would get into fights when they were together. It was part of a healthy relationship, she thought. It was on her birthday when she thought they were over for good. After a few drinks of alcohol, anyone can lose their mind. The girl in the corner had dressed in desperation and set her sights on him. A quick chat here, a peck on the cheek there. He was so easily manipulated and he so easily set her aside. When the girl proceeded to sit on his lap, she had enough. Her face drained of any color it had. It was her birthday. It was her special day. How dare he be a typical guy on the day that was devoted to her? Her heels clacked against the hardwood floor and she looked up at the spot light. It shined on them. Every bead of sweat illuminated under the glimmer of the light. “We’re done. It’s over.” She practically ripped off the bracelet he bought her and tossed it into his choice of poison he was drinking. “I don’t need you,” she said and walked away from him for the first time in two years. Looking back on everything, she wished he would have broken her heart on her birthday. Now she was wrapped into everything too much. He was apart of her, he would rip out a part of her heart and it would leave such a void. Only he’d have the key. Only he would ever be the missing piece to the puzzle of her heart.

“I love you,” she said in a nearly inaudible voice. This had been going on for four hours and she knew the rope she was pulling on was slowly but surely falling out of her grasp. She was losing sight of what was happening. What was she holding on to? It wasn’t him anymore. If he didn’t want to be there…he wasn’t going to be. All she would have to keep her warm at night was the skeleton of their relationship. It was something she wouldn’t accept. She had to hold on to him so tightly and it was so tight he ended up slipping right through her fingers. If she was him, she would have hated her too. If she was him, she would have run away from him. What she did couldn’t be forgiven. Not in her eyes, not in her parent’s, not in God’s. The various mistakes she made in her life could never add up to what she did to him. If he was her world and he was the one thing that made her feel complete why did she do it to him? He wanted that answer from her, everyone did. Her lips quivered and she shook her head, it was an answer she would keep locked inside for eternity.

He grabbed his coat off the hanger, their hanger, and made his way toward the door. She wouldn’t try to stop him. She’d watch him with the lingering thought maybe he wouldn’t walk out of the door. Walking out meant he was walking out on her and their relationship. It wasn’t love. It was everything. It was the way her insides turned when he grabbed the handle. It was the way she almost got up to grab on to him and kiss him and tell him they could fix it…they could make it all better. It was how when he closed the door and he was feet from her body and miles from her heart she still couldn’t believe it was over. It wasn’t just love. It was everything. She walked toward the door and pressed her head hard against the cold paint. The sound of the engine starting up made her weep even louder as she slid down the door. “I wish I would have known you when I was younger,” she whispered, “Broken arms are a lot easier to handle than broken hearts.”

Finally, her gaze broke from the dream like feeling she had. Then it hit her, she was standing in front of a ton of people waiting on her to give some absolutely wonderful speech. The only thing she could think of doing was going into a dark hole to die. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she quickly said and she darted past the velvet red curtains into the backstage. Pulling a chair from a make up stand, she sat down and rested her face in the palms of her head. She screwed up, man, she screwed up. Months of work had dripped down the drain because Ryan had to come along.

He knew it had to do with him, how could it not? She was walking and talking perfectly fine until their eyes met. Ryan felt like this was somehow his own fault, and quickly walked out of the room to address her. When he finally approached the back stage area, every one of his heart strings pulled when he saw her mascara dripping down her cheek. She felt a presence behind her and she quickly looked up, trying to fix herself and her composure. Seeing him standing in front of her made it all the worse. “Why did you have to come along? Why couldn’t you just stay away? Did you see me up there? I was a complete wreck. I made a complete fool out of myself. You already invaded my heart, my mind…why do you have to invade the one chance I have to make something for myself. One time, Ryan. I know I did what I did, but just one time I wanted to feel like I could be someone without you hovering right over my shoulder.”
He just stood there, watching her.
post comment

navigation
[ viewing | most recent entries ]