Sunday, October 14, 2007
♥ Sunday, October 14, 2007
Thankful - Kelly Clarkson
You know my soul
You know everything about me there's to know
You know my heart
How to make me stop and how to make me go
You should know i love everything about you
Don't you know
That i'm thankful
For the blessing
And the lessons that i've learned
with you by my side
That i'm thankful
So thankful for the love
That you keep bringing in my life
Thankful
So thankful
You know my thoughts
Before i open up my mouth and try to speak
You know my dreams
Must be listening when i'm talking in my sleep
I hope you know
I love having you around me
Don't you know
That I'm thankful for the blessing
And the lessons that i've learned
With you by my side
That I'm thankful
So thankful for the love
That you keep bringing in my life.
Don't you know that I'm
Thankful for the moment
When i'm down you always know
How to make me smile
Thankful for the moments
And the joy that you're bringing to my life
For the lessons that i've learned
For the trouble i've known
For the heartache & pain
That you've thrown my way
When i didn't think i could go on
But you made me feel strong
With you I am never alone
Thankful
So thankful
I love this song. It makes me feel thankful. Not kidding.
Here's a fact. Thought I'd be much happier after exams but - I guess it isn't turning out so. So I turn back to my lifebuoys, my books.
And reread another one that I found so true. So true.
"What are you afraid of?" Dr Marshall asked me as I chewed on Jolly Ranchers and glowered out the window. "What do you think she'll say?"
"I don't know," I said, and this was the truth. "Probably the same thing everyone's said: That what happened to me was somehow her fault, that she feels responsible."
"Would that be bad?"
I grabbed another Rancher, ripping off the plastic wrapper. "Yes. Because I'm tired of that. Everyone can stop feeling guilty now, okay? It's not helping me."
Dr Marshall considered this, studying her hands.
"But what bugs me the most," I added, "is what she's probably thinking."
"Which is..." Dr Marshall said, sticking her pen behind her ear," ... what?"
I pulled up my knees to my chest - defensive stance, as they called it in group therapy. "It's just that I've always been the weaker one, the less talented. The perennial second-place also-ran. The more likely to screw up. And now, with this, I've, like, totally proved it. To her, and to everyone."
"Caitlin," she said, taking her own Rancher out of the bowl and laying it on the arm of her chair, "we've discussed quite a bit that being a victim does not make you weak."
"I know," I said. This, too, though, was hard to learn.
"And from what you've told me about your sister, she doesn't sound like the kind of person who would judge you that way."
"Of course not," I snapped. "She doesn't judge anyone. She doesn't do anything wrong. She's perfect in every way."
Dr Marshall raised her eyebrows, then picked up the Rancher on her chair and unwrapped it, not saying anything. The crinkling of plastic seemed to go on forever, with neither of us talking.
"Perfect people," she finally said, "live in picket-fenced houses with golden retrievers and beautiful children. They always smell like fresh flowers and never step in dog doo, or bounce checks, or cry."
I rolled my eyes at her, cracking my Rancher in my mouth.
"They also," she went on, "don't run away with no explanation. They don't leave their families with questions that aren't answered, and make their parents worry, and leave their younger sister to try and hold everything together."
* * * *
I'd spent so many months feeling like I was underwater, half in dreamland with those mermaids, hearing all the voices from up above. And since I'd been at Evergreen I felt like I'd been swimming so hard, the water growing warmer and warmer the closer I got to the top. I wasn't there yet, but now I could see the surface, rippling just beyond my fingers.
I turned around, looking back at the living room, where my pictures lined the walls, each one framed, each one perfect. All my faces, all my objects. All of my world, laid out for everyone to see.
I turned back to my family, standing together, watching me as their own faces stared back at them. And I closed my eyes, just for a second, and felt myself swimming, harder, pulling myself up to the surface so close above.
Caitlin! they'd yelled at me as I ran across the gym at the first pep rally, before everything began.
Caitlin, Rogerson had said when we met at the car wash, that cold night under the stars.
Caitlin, Corinna had giggled to me a thousand times as we sat on her couch, watching game shows.
Caitlin, my mother had whispered that night on the sidewalk, cradling me under the streetlight.
Caitlin, I'd said aloud as I placed the last piece of my picture together, recognising the face I saw there.
They were the voices I'd heard all year round as I fell deeper, tangled with mermaids at the cool bottom of the ocean. But it was my own voice, or close to it, that I heard next.
"Caitlin?"
I was still swimming up, higher and higher, pulled by the sounds. But I wouldn't drown. I could already see the sky, iridescent and just beyond the water above me. And farther on, much farther, was dreamland. But for now, I wanted only to stay between them, floating on all that blue at last.
I'll leave the ending of the story open. You guys go read it. It's called Dreamland, by (guess who) Sarah Dessen. I don't know where still sells it but I know that Ngee Ann Kino is out right now, and Popular and Harris doesn't have it. Try your luck at Borders or other Kino stores, or maybe try Amazon online. Amazon is always good.
That aside. I know that feeling. Being underwater, being drowned, not breathing, trying to hard to finally, finally, reach that surface and break through, break away from your boundaries and limitations. It feels good at the end, but let me tell you something - it's not easy either. In the whole time you're underwater, when you're already right below the surface but can't strike through. That's the worse, because it seems so near, and yet so far away. So, so far away.
I'm this close to letting it all out, to find myself breathing yet again. But I can't seem to do it, somehow, though I know that it's going to get better at the end of it all because the worst is past and things can only get better (right?). I didn't see this coming the moment I decided to close my eyes and just jump - and now I'm drowning, gasping for air, for me to be alive, finally, all over again. Yet it doesn't stop me from just closing my eyes and jumping - cause that's the only right thing to do in any other place besides dreamland.
Moral of the story? I've got loads, but here's the most important:
Sometimes, things get complicated and when they do (which is practically every time), stop thinking too much. Just close your eyes and jump. Though you might not know what comes next, but that's okay. If things get worse, all you have to do is try another jump. Jump again. And again, and again, until you land in somewhere safe, or that blue. For realists - negative and negative makes positive; for romantics, cause jumping just can't go wrong.
Can it?
