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tell me wut u think of it plz! sweatdrop
The Past Will Not Change, But the Present Can
If I could've said it in different words, words that wouldn't have made such a big deal, I would've.
I mean, it wasn't like I didn't give hints. You just didn't listen to them.
Like the time I was walking home from school, and you approached me. I gave you an evil stare, but you started walking beside me like we were best friends.
" Hi, Tess," you said.
I didn't even reply. Didn't even look your way.
" That Algebra test sure was hard today," you even smile at me.
I wanted you to go away, to just leave me alone, so I started walking faster. But you only quickened your pace to mine. Our footsteps were in perfect accord. I was so disgusted that I made myself trip up so they wouldn't be the same.
" Are you okay," you asked.
But even then, I knew I wasn't. I knew there was something wrong with the way I was. I told myself I didn't care.
The day I had my birthday party, you showed up unexpected, uninvited.
" Mom, why is HE here? " I asked under my breath.
" I invited him sweetie.. I thought you had forgotten to."
The rest of the day, everyone else had fun, while I sat angry at my mother and you for being there.
You came over to me and handed me a box. It was wrapped in green shiny paper with a yellow ribbon. You knew they were my favorite colors.
I looked at you like you were scum, but you didn't notice because you were smiling and happy. My mother gave me a look , and so I took the box from you and opened it.
You had given me a figurine of me that you carved. It was beautiful, and delicate. You had portrayed me that way, and I knew I wasn't. You made me feel fake. I didn't even smile or say thank you. I just sat there with it in my hands. Then I stood up and dropped it. Everyone there stopped what they were doing and looked at me. I just stood there looking down at my feet where it lay. It was broken-the arm and the neck.
" It's okay, " you said, " I'll fix it."
And you saw the tears on my face. My mom told everybody to go home.
I was on a walk, late one evening, and there you were, suddenly beside me.
"Your out late," you said with a smile.
I just kept walking. But this time was different. This time you noticed.
"What is it?", you asked, " What's wrong?"
"Go away," I heard it leap from my throat.
Tiny and small, almost insignificant...but you heard it too.
"What?"
"Go away. I said GO AWAY!"
You stopped walking, and so did I, a few steps in front of you.
"What is it, Tess? What's wrong"
" I told you to GO AWAY! YOU'RE WHAT'S WRONG!"
I turned around; I wanted to go all out on you.
" WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS TALKING TO ME?! ALWAYS SO FRIENDLY AND NICE!! I HATE YOU! I"VE ALWAYS HATED YOU!"
I could feel tears sliding down my face, and I didn't know why.
" YOU ARE EVERYTHING I WANTED TO BE! YOUR GOOD AT THINGS AND YOUR SMART, BUT YOU GO AND FLAUNT IT AROUND LIKE YOUR ALL THAT! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!" I knew I was lieing. You didn't act like you were better than everyone else.
My words were broken by more tears. I didn't know what to do. You were so calm. You weren't smiling like usual. You just took me and held me. I cried into your shoulder, and I noticed that you were crying too.
I could hear you crying, muffled sounds over my shoulder.
After that day, I didn't see you for weeks. Then, I was in the mall and so were you. You waved and smiled like nothing had ever happened. And for some reason, I waved and smiled back.
Two days later, I found out that you were hit by a car. You were crossing the street walking back to your house. You died upon impact.
Your mother called me and told me you had left something for me. I came to your house. Your room smelled like you. Your mom let me see it. There were drawings and carvings and art supplies all over the room. It felt familiar-I guess it was the smell. It wasn't bad though.
She gave me the carving of me from my birthday. She said it wasn't the original, but a whole knew one. This one seemed the same, but it was different. It looked sad and hurt. It made me sad. Everything made me sad.
Your mom told me that she knew about what I said to you. She said you didn't tell her, but she knew. She said mothers always know. Your mother said that you loved me. She said she could see it whenever you said anything about me. She couldn't understand why I had been so cruel. She was angry with me. I couldn't take it, so I left with the figurine.
A week later, your funeral was held. I sat in the back, away from your mother's teary, angry eyes.
I was barely listening to the man speaking.
" We are gathered here today, to celebrate the life of a young man who meant a lot to countless people......... He lived a good life......"
I was thinking of whether or not I should read the speech I made.
When the time came, I walked to the front, not looking at your mother, not looking at anyone.
" I knew ..." reading the small strip of paper made me feel false. I crumbled it in my hand and began again.
" I can't say that I was great friends with Jay, or that I really even liked him. He was the nicest person I knew, and I treated him like dirt..." tears came to the edge of my eyes.
" I guess I was angry with you, for just being you. But I'm not trying to make excuses for myself either. Now, I can't change anything that's happened. I can't go back and be kind and happy....I just have to hope that his family forgive me. If you don't, I don't blame you."
I climbed down the steps and went back to my seat. No one clapped or said anything for a while.
I brought myself to go to the burial, and I'm there now. The image of your dead body is still in my head. I throw a rose onto the coffin, after it's been lowered. With the first shovel-full of dirt that gets thrown down, I finally realize that I loved you. And I still love you . But now, there is no way to change what has happened. The dirt continually covering the coffin ensures me of it.
I walk over to your mom; she's crying.
She sees that I am too.
"I forgive you.......he forgives you.."she says
And she grabs me and holds me, crying on me.
"I'm sorry Jay.." I say.
Silently, I ask God to forgive me too.
When I look up at the sky, there is a white dove, circling overhead, and I know I am forgiven.
 talo palo · Tue May 30, 2006 @ 06:50am · 1 Comments |
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