The Long Run
As many of you know, when I struggle or something occurs in my life that is hard, I turn to my writing, particularly fanfiction and poetry. This time I have turned to a familiar character and told most of my story through her. Most of what is mentioned is true, only in a different sense. I know which is the fact and which is the fiction. Writing is reasoning and making sense of things when nothing else seems to work. And so it is with this story. Title is related to the song of the same name by Lennon Murphy. Please read and review.
The pencil tapped quietly against the desk, a steady rhythm in the otherwise quiet of the room. Next to it sat a blank piece of paper, blank except for the one line that lay on the page. Dear Lalee… Beyond that the page lay blank and the pencil still tapped, the writer trapped in thought. That was the only thing not blank- the thoughts that coursed through her mind were both tormenting and contemplation. She couldn't figure it out, and was trying to understand, but for all it was worth she came up empty handed. Her face studied the paper, her brown locks falling alongside her cheek in the dim lighting of the room. She looked up, studying the now empty wallspace above her desk, where photos and memorabilia had once adorned the wall. It was simply blank—like her paper, like her heart.
That isn't to say she hadn't cried. No, she'd cried so much she wasn't sure how many tears were left to be shed. Crying hadn't helped; there was still the terrible aching inside her heart that she knew only time could heal and mend, though not so much as to be as whole as it was before this. Her world had been shattered and what she once knew was no more. True, it was a bit of an over exaggeration, but it was her life and her thoughts, and she felt as though she was entitled to feeling as she pleased right now. She wanted to mourn her loss in her own way, her own style. It'd been a week, and there'd been silence. She had no answers and no true reasoning, only the email that had been sent to her. An email, of all things, the most cowardly of ways to end something. Lalee knew where she lived, her number, where to find her, and yet she chose email instead because it left no confrontation to be had, but was instead the final ending blow that couldn't be blocked.
A tear slid down her cheek as she remembered that night again and how she had been so shocked at first that she could barely fathom what had just occurred. It was as though she'd been shot, but hadn't felt the pain until a few minutes later. Then it kicked in and shattered what she thought had been true, and real. She couldn't remember much beyond that night. She knew that she'd been home then and that the next day she'd had to return to the college. She remembered some of the drive, how she was sleepy because she'd not eaten much in 48 hours and how that affected her driving, in which she almost drove off the road quite a bit. She had been lucky to have made it safely back to school, but not so lucky as to avoid the questions she knew would come, about the spring break she was just on, and about how she and Lalee had gotten along. She retreated to her room to avoid the questions, but was suddenly faced with all the memories on her walls.
Anger had taken over then; she remembered it so very well. She grabbed the nearest box and had emptied it, shoving every piece that reminded her of Lalee into it. She wanted nothing to do with the box, and knew she would one day burn it, burn away the pain and hurt that she had been put through. That box held a chapter of her life she'd never get back and didn't want back if this was how it was to be. The box had been sealed and tossed aside; she could have cared less, for it was the exact way she felt—tossed aside. Lalee couldn't do this, Lalee couldn't do that… where did her feelings come into this? Where did the lies start and the truth end?
With that, the pencil began to write in a quick, small cursive script across the page. With the emotions and turmoil being revisited, so did the urge to write and to complete the letter that would probably end up in the trash in the end, but would at least help her to write out her thoughts and anger. Through it all, she had never once trashed talked Lalee, though she had every right to and every opportunity. After all, she'd been the one who'd be hurt and dumped. But… it wasn't in her blood to do so. She wasn't that kind of girl and knew she couldn't bring herself to do it, no matter how much of a right she had to do so. Instead, she had even defended Lalee to others that suspected what had occurred and they chastised her for it. Defend? Why should she defend the girl when she'd been the one who'd been dumped? She didn't know why, but knew it was the way she was.
Chances… it had been all about chances and taking them. After all, why take the easy route out, the easy way. She'd never had the easy way, Power Ranger or not. There was always some obstacle to overcome, something more to challenge herself with. If it scared her, it was worth doing, and the self reward could be no greater. That same attitude that had pulled her through before was nowhere to be found. This was another obstacle to overcome, but she felt as though her strength was nowhere to be found and that her true weakness was showing through, almost as though she were trying to fight Rita's spells once more to keep control. She was losing controlling and spiraling outward—to where she had no idea. What she had once been sure and certain of had been suddenly taken away, and she found herself no longer sure or certain of anything in her life.
Was this how it was to be? How things were to always be? The pencil now scribbled across the page in a maddened frenzy of lead. Words covered the page and said what she could never say to Lalee face to face because Lalee had rid herself of everything that had to do with the relationship, and most likely wanted to forget it all. Why would a person try to forget everything? She could not fathom why, for she could never forget that the relationship existed, or that it was something good, something to be cherished after the pain left and she had had time to recover. She could hold no regrets, for to regret meant she hated what she had learned from it all. She could never forget those things, the special things that make it all worthwhile. They had become tainted, but were still not meant to be forgotten.
Time could tell and time could heal, but it could never heal as completely as before. She was afraid to try anymore, for fear of what could happen. Someday, perhaps, but not now, not anytime soon. She wasn't ready to hand off her heart completely to another, to place that type of complete trust in another. The hammer had smashed before, it would surely smash again. The broken fragments still had the glue from the previous healing. Nothing was ever permanent, but nothing could ever last or commit. She was beginning to see that. There was always something, just one more thing that made her not good enough, or so it seemed. In her head she knew it wasn't true; in her heart she felt every last word vibrate in anger against her chest. She was good enough, but only for awhile, until the cycle started all over again.
The pencil slowed as her thoughts began to dwindle and the paper was filled with words that became sentences, that became paragraphs that spoke exactly what she thought, felt, and wanted to say. If Lalee never read it, if Lalee never responded, she would still have said her piece of mind, if only to the bottom of a trash bin. The last sentence was written, and the pencil hovered for a few seconds before adding the final period. She looked over what she had written, and felt pained at the words she'd penned. Tears pricked behind her eyes that would never fall. She wouldn't cry, not tonight. She'd cried enough to last her for awhile, enough for the both of them, for the tears Lalee would never cry, for the memories Lalee was trying to forget, for the relationship that she cared nothing for anymore. With one final glance, she signed her name to the very bottom of the letter. Before she had written "Always yours" before signing her name. For the first time, she merely wrote her name before placing the letter in an addressed envelope—Kimberly.
Some of you may noticed I tried something slightly different and never mentioned the character until the end…there were clues as to who it could have been. You'll have noticed Rita was mentioned, and so that knocked out many characters but three. You were given hair color before that even, so yeah. Anyway, it was something new. Knowing the name throughout was unnecessary, but knowing what she was feeling was more important. Please review.