It's sunny today. It's so painfully bright, but I can't close my eyes because the sky is the most nostalgic shade of blue and those stupid clouds are like memories that won't go away. The grass holds me like I sometimes wish you would. It keeps me from sinking into the dirt and it prevents my heart from running away.
This is my favorite place to be. I feel so small and intimidated, like at any time I could be crushed by the giant foot of significance. I feel unimportant and unrecognized, flat on my back staring at those hideously beautiful clouds. The sky is so big, you know. So many places without memories.
I like how you always make me come out here when I have a meltdown and can't stop crying. I lay down on the grass and clench those pleasant green blades and stare. You sit next to me for awhile and you don't say anything until I've calmed down enough to talk.
The first two words I say are always the same. It takes such effort to male my voice work again, and my eyes are red and swollen from the unstoppable crying. I am so ugly right now. But it doesn't really matter, because I'm so small and intimidated and unimportant and unrecognized.
"I'm sorry."
You stretch out on the grass next to me, the sides of our heads almost touching, our bodies at a forty degree angle. I hold onto the grass tighter because it's not fair to miss you when you're right beside me. The endless game plays over in my mind, I debate saying so many things. You ask me what's wrong, what if I told you I miss you so much it tightens my stomach into a twisted lump, every time I let myself remember laughing with you? You ask me to tell you why I'm crying, what if I told you it's because I'm so, so, so afraid of nothing?
Every day is a constant battle of repressing my feelings, because I don't want you to know how much every word you say to me means. I get disgusted with myself, because I hate clichés and recently I've been such a walking cliché machine. I hate the idea that I'm like every other teenage girl who has ever loved a boy. Sometimes I want to be different, just so you'll never find anyone else quite like me.
But it doesn't really matter. I'm small and intimidated and unimportant and unrecognized... and so ugly today.
I realize tears are sliding from my eyes, and they tickle my cheek as they fall away. Out of the corner of my vision I can see you watching me.
"What's wrong?"
Oh, I hate your voice. It makes me want to laugh and cry and tell you everything that hurts me. It makes me feel loved and protected and cared for, it makes me feel special and beautiful, and all the things I know I'm not.
I bite my lip almost hard enough to draw blood, because the pain is a distraction from the horrible humiliating tears coming from my eyes. I wish I had no eyes, because then I couldn't cry and then I would never be ugly because of all my crying.
I wonder if it hurts you when I avoid answering when you ask me what's wrong. I wonder if you know it's not because I don't want to tell you, but because I don't know how to make the words mean anything and I don't want to irritate you with my rambles about all the things I do to make it easier. I wonder if you know that sometimes I cry simply when you say goodbye, because I wanted to say so much but I couldn't and I don't want you to leave.
And sometimes I wonder if it annoys you that I cry so often, and if it would annoy you more if you knew every time I cried. And other times I wonder if it's possible that I could be respected for my excessive crying.
Sometimes I wonder if you think I should be stronger. Sometimes I wonder if I ever help you. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I went away. Would you miss me then as much as I miss you now?
"Hey."
I close my eyes and bite my lip harder. My face flames as you slide your hand into mine. Just like the first time we held hands. My face was burning, but my heart was in heaven.
"Is that out of guilt?" My voice is low and broken. I hate my voice after I've been crying. Everything about me is horrible when I cry.
"No." You tighten your hold and I wonder why that makes me want to start crying again. "No, Ellie. I want to."
I force my ugly, red eyes open again, but I don't trust myself to look at you. Your fingers run over mine and my face burns but maybe, maybe, maybe you missed me...
The sky is still so blue, and I hate it. No, I love it. Pain swirls in my lip and the sunlight makes my insignificance more defined. The clouds float by and I have the urge to blow them all away.
"Don't cry anymore, Ellie," you say, quietly, earnestly, like you're afraid to wake me up. "Please don't cry anymore."
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"Ellie."
The pressure on my lip increases, but there still is no blood. I realize I am gripping your hand as tightly as I hold onto the grass, and out of shock I start to let go. You tighten your hold and I stop biting my lip.
You sit up and pull me up beside you. Our shoulders brush gently and the feeling in my stomach explodes. I could be sick from relief. My tiny hand still rests inside yours, and for some cliché reason that I don't hate so much, I feel so incredibly safe right now.
"Tell me what's wrong, Ellie."
I allow myself a glance at your face, and I want to tell you. You watch me quietly, keeping my hand safe inside yours.
The words come, those terrible words I was so afraid of releasing. The pain of trusting is countered with the happiness of trusting and I don't know when I started to cry. I force my voice over the hurt in my throat and keep talking, and you listen and you don't tell me to stop crying.
"Would you miss me then as much as I miss you now?"
I lose my voice to just a whisper, and as the last words come you put your arms around me and I rest my head against your chest and try very hard to stop crying. You hold me close, just like the grass, and for some reason you don't need to say anything.
You have a funny way of making bad days just a little bit better, and making life just a little less unhappy, and making a smile come just that much quicker. And you make me feel so special and significant and important and recognized, all those things I must be to you, just by holding me close sometimes.
The sky is such a nostalgic shade of blue, and those clouds floating by are like memories, and I don't say I love you but you know I do.
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