Disclaimer: Since I've been gone, I have not bought Degrassi.
I started with my closet. It had all of your trash in it, you know, the trash you were too lazy to throw out, so you chucked it into the only crevice you could stuff it into. I just found it now, and I was entirely shocked at how many jolly rancher wrappers you left behind. I can't even see my floor, though between you and I, that doesn't really say much. But, of course you know that.
I'd like to say that the wrappers are in the trash right now, but if I'm being honest-and you did make me promise to always be honest-they're underneath one of my father's heavy books. I unwrinkled each one and tried to smooth the thin wrapper out, but they just became even more ruined. That's where the book came in. They're underneath the book about India, y'know, the one where you read constantly, saying that we had to go someday? I'll go. I'll tell you about it.
I also found your comb(s). They were in your other hiding place. Yes, I found it. It was pure chance that I looked underneath my bed and found the strange assortment of combs. You used to comb and pat your hair down before talking to your mom; as if she could see you over the phone. I'm not really sure where you got them all, and I don't know why I never asked you. There's a lot of things that I didn't ask you.
People tiptoe around me now, like if they tread too hard, I'll fall apart. But maybe I want to fall. I want to taste the failure that I've been hiding from. With each wrapper that I find and each comb I bring myself to pick up, I can hear the tear. It's the tear in reality, I guess. For so long I've pretended that you're coming back. For so long I've pretended that I'm okay. And maybe it's time to fall on my knees and cry. Maybe it's time to scream like a child and forget about everything else.
It's all bittersweet, Cam. It's like your sour jolly ranchers. They are so disgustingly horrible to taste in the beginning-I also found your stash of these. Dallas said that they were in your locker-but then they begin to taste sweet and the lurch in your stomach stops. And I couldn't help but wonder if that's why you loved these so much; they started cruel but became kind, just like you wish life could have been. Or maybe that's just me overanalyzing everything. Wouldn't be the first time, would it?
My mom told me the other day to just be happy. And that line seemed familiar and I can place it back to my mouth. It seems so stupid to say. Maybe if I had known that before...everything happened, we wouldn't be here. And maybe if I caught on to the way you were happy right after you broke your arm, you'd be laughing on the phone with your brother. I like to picture that. I like to picture that most innocent of pictures; you and me just being us. That's all I like to picture, because going to India would have been great, but it would have been great with you anywhere.
Before I go, I wanted to tell you that your mom visits from time to time. At first, she visited the greenhouse and said that you always liked plants because they grew in bright places; like humans. She said that you had a green thumb back home, and I must say that I was shocked. I don't know why your mother wanted to go into the greenhouse. Maybe it was a final goodbye; a farewell that would never be fair. Her small fingers touched every surface as if she was just searching for you. As if you were trapped underneath the dust and dirt and you'd come back for air. I then showed her our photo booth photos. He looks like his father, she said. And then she walked away, and I didn't see her for a couple of months. She doesn't like to go to hockey games because that's one of the reasons, isn't it? You never told her, but she knows. She knew more than I thought possible. You must have told her about you promising to give me a charm after every show, because I now have a small collection.
It's all messed up, Cam. It's not black and white, but it also is. It's nothing. We're all moving and falling and no one picked you up, and I'm sorry. I should have carried you. You will forever stay young. It's so tempting to go in the greenhouse and shut the doors. It's so tempting to eat away my future and spit it out so there's a reason to die. I want to do that every day. My theme song is the clanking of my charms on my wrist, wrapping around every single thing I see. And I wouldn't have that without you. I wouldn't have a lot without you.
So. Goodbye. Keep your stick on the ice. Sing some karaoke. Take some photos. Buy some charms. And I'll do the same. This may be a bittersweet ending, but it will be a sweet beginning.
I promise.
Yes. Hello. So, I had to write this because this death literally killed me. It was so well done and so easy to identify with.
A review would be lovely!