In the Rearview (23 page)

Wrap a bow around me

Pack me up

And send me to him

A gift

Perfectly tailored

Sent in the middle of the night

For someone special

Someone right

But don't spoil the surprise

Wait to open

Until the precise moment

Hold your breath

Close your eyes

And untie the bow

A new idea

Something special

Something true

Yet I can't help but think

How terrifying too

The world could be better

Someone may be helped

But first I have to

Get over this

Crippling fear

The day starts

Like every other day

I go through the motions

Hit over the head

By continual repetition

Nothing ever changes

Nothing is ever new

I can't help but think

Of how boring it would be

To continue on this way

Forever

And for always

I can't stick in this rut

I need a fresh perspective

I need a ray of hope

I need something exciting

Something new

I am

Better

With you

I am

Happier

Because of you

I am

Stronger

When I am

With you

You push

Me to be better

You make

Me so much happier

And you help me

To be stronger

Too

 

Dear Diary,

I've had this idea lately. I don't know what I will do with it, but since it found its way into my head, I can't seem to get rid of it. It's so great in theory, but in practice it becomes a lot harder.

My idea, my crazy thought, is to take my journals and my writing to create a collection that tells a sad but hopeful story that could possibly help somebody like me. Someone who is in the same shoes I used to drag my heavy feet around in.

I've never let anyone else but Tanner read everything I've written, and it isn't even in order yet. But I have thought maybe if I put it all together, there could be something healing and helpful there. It could be just what someone needs to find their way out of a cold and lonely hole in the dark.

I know there are other people like me out there. And if I had been told what I was getting myself into, maybe I would have decided against it. Maybe if there had been someone to hand me a binder, a book, a story, about the ins and outs of such pain and added problems cutting brings, then maybe I would have chosen a different path. Additionally, if I had been shown the same narrative in the worst of my downward spiral, it may have helped me to stop sooner than I did.

I know there is always a fine line between giving new ideas on how to hide it and providing hope in stopping, but when I look back at my writing I can see a message there. But it's hard to know if I am the only one who would see it.

I'm working on the idea.

And I'm still thinking, because as much as it excites me on one hand, it is equally as frightening on the other. If I did that, if I opened up my past for debate and analysis, I could end up hurting myself. I could reopen wounds that are long healed over. Everyone I know would have intimate details about things I never shared with them. And it would also mean my parents would know, or safely assume, what I've kept from them for so long. I never wanted them to hurt for me or because of my actions. They might be crushed, or even mad, by what my story would tell.

But is that enough to stop me from helping others?

It definitely has possible drawbacks. If I put it all together, someone could hate it, and it would feel like such a personal rejection.

There are so many things to consider.

I still don't know if I will ever pursue the idea, but at least I'm considering it.

Tanner thinks it's a great idea. I mentioned it the other day. He said if I could help one other person, then the effort it would take to be brave and string these old pages together would all be worth it. He said I'm so brave already, it wouldn't take much more to be ready. He still reminds me of all the strength and bravery he saw in everything I've written.

He thinks I will want to do it, if not now, eventually. And maybe so.

Tanner also thinks it could help me too. His thought is that the more open I am with what I went through, the better I will feel. He said by helping others I will also help myself.

I still don't know yet, but it would be amazing to help someone who needs it.

Hiding behind what I want

Shielding the unknown

Slinking around the obstacles

Never slipping

Ever wishing

Promises waiting

Eyes closed tight

Fingers laced

Waiting

You knew how to strike

You knew right where to hit

You knew how hard to press

You knew what would hurt

You knew what I could not take

You knew I couldn't get back up

You knew I'd flounder

You knew I'd need you

You knew you'd feel strong

You knew you were in control

You knew I would be broken

You knew I'd be in pieces

You knew I'd be shattered

You knew to hit me hard

You knew

Sparkling diamond shards

Caressing warmth

Passionate adoration

Breaking rules

Silver studded sparks

Special smirk

Staccato gasps

Humor engulfing

Splashing innocence

Florescent kiss

Tipped gently from button's edge

Rarity in essence

Platinum crystallized pain

Devoted wisps showered across

Independently dependent

Fascinating love

Blindingly bright

Curved corners

Embrace serendipity

Hide behind

Something safe

Warm and comforting

Sneak around the difficult

Pass between the rough

Don't get knocked down

Knocked around

Knocked up

By the lies that feed into doubt

Stick to what is real

So you no longer

Have to hide your beautiful face

It creates cracks

Splinters off

Shatters what is left

Breaks holes in my resolve

The pain leaks into every surface

Make the smile hard to plaster on

Faking the right response

Gauging based on those around

Trying to guess how to react

Don't have a basis anymore

Plain and bland

Dulled by the pain

I can't seem to run away from

Can't escape

Will it ease up

Anytime soon

Invitation of desire

All bets are off

Take me as I am

Forgive me for my mistakes

Invite me into your life

Make room for my flaws

Kiss away my fears

Invite the joy

Run to join

Life always moves forward, so leave the past in the rearview

She sat across from a new friend at lunch. They had met through a mutual acquaintance, and they'd hit it off immediately. So when Alana asked to hang out, it wasn't hard for Meagan to say yes.

But she had forgotten how the first time without the safety net of more company could feel like a first date. It was laughable. There were so many get-to-know-you questions it was like an interview. Meagan was nervous, and she kept coming up with new topics in her head for when there was any break in the conversation.

But eventually the tension eased, and it felt more organic. The two ladies ordered dessert, and Meagan didn't feel like rushing away for alone time at all anymore. As the bill came, they decided to walk to the museum for an extended outing.

Meagan loved making new friends. It felt wonderful to connect with someone. She had spent so much time alone, or wanting to be alone when she was younger, that company was almost always welcomed now. And Alana was fun. She had a quirky personality that had Meagan laughing a lot. It was nice to laugh so much.

When inside the museum the conversation continued to flow easily.

“So what's your darkest secret?” Alana asked, as they passed from painting to painting, taking in the beauty created through other's creativity.

She had been joking, but the question was like a splash of cold water to the face for Meagan. Alana's jokes had been so refreshing up until now that this misstep jarred her.

Meagan had plenty of secrets, and a lot of them were dark. Her mind raced for an acceptable answer that wouldn't send Alana running away.

“I'm actually a vampire. What's yours?”

She made a joke and passed the buck. It was easier.

“What a coincidence I'm a werewolf. We were meant to be friends.”

They made their way between different rooms that housed entirely different eras of artwork. The conversation was kept light. Soon Meagan eased back into a comfortable place and almost forgot about her jolt. She had just been too sensitive anyway. But when Alana dropped her map of the museum, they both bent to pick it up, and the unease came crashing back. Meagan knew exactly what Alana was looking at before she opened her mouth to ask.

“What's that?”

She was pointing to Meagan's faint reminder on her wrist. The room seemed to freeze, while Meagan's mind raced. And when she didn't answer, Alana continued.

“How did you get it? Did it hurt? I have a big one on my thigh from a car accident.”

Alana didn't mean to pry; Meagan could tell. But she hadn't been ready to volunteer such personal and deep information this early. So she didn't.

“Were you driving when it happened?”

Meagan could kick herself. Even with two opportunities, she had walked around perfect places to divulge. She hadn't lied, but she hadn't needed to brush it off either. She could have just answered. Her cop outs were especially disappointing with the idea of sharing her story still rolling around. How would she ever come around to being more comfortable if she never tried? She could have used this as an opportunity, but now the moment had passed, and she felt like a fool.

“No, I was a kid. A drunk driver hit my dad's car on my side. I don't remember much of it. But I do remember having an awesome birthday party the next week to make up for the fact I had to use crutches.”

Alana was fine with sharing. Why couldn't Meagan be? She was so mad at herself. But maybe it wasn't too late. She took a breath and spoke before she could second guess or stop herself.

“Mine doesn't have as good of a story.”

“Vampire?”

“Not quite.”

Meagan's nerves calmed as she started talking. Somehow it was easier to reveal parts of herself, parts of this specific chunk of past, the more she did it.

“I used to be so depressed, and I handled it poorly.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No please don't be. I wouldn't be me without what I've been through.”

“You're a pretty awesome person to have made it past all that, and be willing to talk about it with a nobody like me.”

“You aren't a nobody. Besides it's seems to get easier the more times I tell it.”

Alana slung her arm through Meagan's as they continued sharing while they walked ahead.