Re: Company
Not that many eighteen year olds have to deal with death as much as I have. I’ve already had my mum die, and I haven’t got that long before Jack dies too. Perhaps I wouldn’t feel so bad if they just got old and died naturally, but it’s not. Mum was only 34 when she died, and Jack’s only 18. It’s not right! Jack’s not even dead yet and it’s eating me up inside.
I never used to be as lonely as I am now. Back in primary school I had loads of friends, but after Mum died it just all went wrong. Dad just didn’t want to speak to me and my friends were just too young to understand, and then I got held back a year because of it all because I had no choice but to bottle it up around other people. My friends then just forgot about me because I wasn’t in their class any more and I never made any more friends after that. Since I was nine, I’ve made two friends. Just two. The first is Damien who’s a write-off now and Jack’s going to die. Two friends in nine years. That’s an average of one every four and a half years. I only met Jack a month ago, so I’ve got at least another four years before my chance will come up to meet another. Even then, they’ll probably die or something else will happen to take them away from me, if the pattern continues, which knowing me, it will. I’m a walking disaster area. My problem is that I do have to rely on a single personality to make me happy, because that single personality is all I have.
Well what else do you suggest we do with the bodies? It just seems right that they should return to the earth.
How can I react to the things that happen to me any different to how I do? My mum died and I was left with nobody. Now Jack’s dying and I’m going to be left with nobody. How can you expect me to be happy about that? A while ago, my faith might have comforted me a little bit, knowing that it was all part of some plan and that it all had some grand purpose. Now, it’s one of two things: Jack’s soul has either had enough and doesn’t care about me enough to stay, or it wants to act as a catalyst to ruin my life again, because it wasn’t messed up enough as it was. It might not be so bad if I had something other than Jack in my life to feel good about, but there’s nothing.
Ha, if I was going to try to process every event that’s provoked an emotional response in my life that still affects me now before I went to sleep, I’d never get the chance to sleep. I’d be dead and buried long before I got the chance to finish. Sadly enough, the idea of me being dead and buried is something that quite appeals to me at the moment. Not quite as much now as it did before Wednesday, but it will once 2008 is over. The only time I’ve really slept this past week was Wednesday night when Jack was there. I don’t feel so bad when he’s around. I’d been up since four Wednesday morning and I wasn’t going to let myself try to sleep any more after seven that morning when I knew Jack could be back soon. Jack finally got back just before three that afternoon and as soon as I saw him coming I couldn’t get out of the house quick enough. When he saw me coming I don’t think he could get out of his car quick enough either. If we hadn’t both been running when we got to each other I think one of us would have knocked the other one over. Jack grabbed hold of me in the tightest bear hug in the world and I wasn’t going to let go of him either. When he kissed me it was like someone had plugged me into the electricity, it was that amazing, even though it felt like someone had put a stake through my heart at the same time when I realised how completely out of breath he was when he hadn’t even run 50 metres. We must have been there for a good five minutes in the pouring rain before I allowed my common sense to take control and go inside because we were both getting wet and Jack didn’t have a coat, so we went down to Jack’s house. Jack’s mum wasn’t home because she’d gone to school to pick up Emily so we went up to Jack’s room and lay down on the bed and talked all night. He put his arms around me and I rested my head on his shoulder and put my hand on his chest but pulled it away when I could feel how irregular his breathing was. There are just so many things like that about Jack that I’d never really paid attention to before now that suddenly make a lot more sense now I understand the explanation for them. Jack told me he’d been thinking of nothing but me all week when he was in hospital and I told him I’d been thinking of him all week too. Jack started crying when I said that, then I started crying considerably more, then me crying made Jack cry even more, because he hates himself for making me feel bad. I didn’t want to tell him after that just how bad I’d been feeling all week. We stayed up all night talking and Jack telling me things that broke my heart. I cried quite a bit but had to make an effort to look away from Jack when I did because I didn’t want him to cry again as well. He told me a lot of things about him and his cancer that felt like someone was stabbing me when he said them, all the sort of things I didn’t want to know the details of but feel I should. He says the doctors say he’s got until November or December. It’s going to go so quick. December was the worst month of the year before Jack came along, with it being the month my mum died in and Christmas thrown in there was well just to remind me that everyone else has people to spend what’s supposed to be the happiest time of the year with except for me. Please let it be after Christmas. I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s before.
I don’t know what time it was when we both fell asleep, but it must have been late because I know we were still there talking when it was dark outside because neither of us wanted to get up to turn the light on or pull the curtains so we just lay there in the dark talking, and it was quite a while after that. We both woke up at half past three in the morning and realised what time it was but I didn’t want to go home and Jack didn’t want me to either, and it’s not like Dad would have been worried about where I was or anything, seeing as it’s all he can do to acknowledge my existence, so I stayed there and we both fell asleep again. It felt so amazing when I woke up the next morning, because it was the first time I had slept properly in over a week. Jack was already awake and just lying there still like we had been the night before. He refused to tell me how long he’d been awake for with me sleeping there but it was eleven when I woke up, and I know Jack is always up early, but I know he wouldn’t have woken me up. I wish he would have though. Sleep feels like a waste of time when Jack’s there. I had to force myself to go home and have a shower and get changed too, but Jack wanted a shower and to get changed too (because we’d both fallen asleep in our ordinary clothes which were also still wet from us standing out in the rain), so it’s not like I’d have been with Jack for those 20 minutes anyway.
It was almost twelve by the time we both got showered and dressed, so it was too late for breakfast so we had lunch instead. Jack had already cooked pasta by the time I got back to his house and it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted, even if it weren’t for the fact that I’d hardly eaten that week either. I’d have stolen the recipe from him if he hadn’t admitted that he just opens the cupboards and makes it up as he goes along with whatever comes to him first. I wish I was that good. With me, it’s whatever comes out of the tin.
After lunch we both walked to the park and sat on the swings for ages talking again, but it was much more like old times with us, without any talk of cancer or anything that makes us both cry. I really needed that, to be able to go out and do something that totally took my mind off everything bad. I can feel Jack feels a lot more comfortable now I know too, even though I can tell he feels terrible for what he’s going to put me through when he dies. He just needed to talk to someone about it. I understand how that feels.
Camael, is that some kind of joke? I’ve had enough motivation for controlling my feelings. I don’t want to be depressed any more than you do. I’ve had it on and off for nine years, and I hate it. Don’t you think that would be enough motivation for me to try? I’ve cried enough too, so you can’t say that I’m suppressing anything. No, I just think it’s not possible.
I just think some souls must be sick and sadistic, like mine and yours. If I was supposed to have been happy, it would have happened in this life.
Oh, if only a teddy bear could make me feel like Jack makes me feel.
-Poppy
No comments:
Post a Comment