You would think that your arrival into Heaven would be epic, right? You'd think there'd be fireworks and parades. You'd think that you'd be received by applause and hand-shakes and pats on the back. You'd think that all the angels would gather 'round to celebrate, and your family members and friends would come running to you and lift you up over their shoulders. You'd think the pain of having lived would drain out of you instantly. You'd think that with each step you took above the clouds, your soul would grow warmer and calmer. You'd think that God Himself would proudly introduce you to everyone living in the sky in a life-changing, breath-taking speech. You would think that your arrival into Heaven would actually mean something to somebody, right? Well it doesn't. And it's important that you know this now.
My name is (or was) Clarke Griffin.
There isn't much to say about me and if you're here looking for some kind of autobiography, you're clearly in the wrong place.
I'm, in a sense, only at the age of seventeen, despite being born two or maybe three decades ago…
I don't remember my exact birthdate. It's a funny thing, isn't it? But I've never had a need to remember it. Not anymore. After you die, you only keep the important things with you. The meaningful things.
From the land of souls, I descended from the sky and found warmth in my mother's womb. Yet, I was not alone. I had a twin, but, sadly, she died before she could even see sunlight. Or see rain. I saw rain, though. More often than sunlight, I saw rain. And for some reason, I just know that if she had been around to see the sky with me, it would have never ever rained on us.
You know, sometimes I wonder if she's here somewhere in Heaven. But it's such a silly thing to wonder about. I know she isn't. You don't baptize still-borns. But the truth is that I'd rather keep pretending to wonder, than acknowledge the fact that I do know where she must be, if it isn't here.
My parents loved me. Maybe not near the twilight of my life as much as at its dawn, but I can't really blame them for that, can I? They really tried to raise me properly. They forced me to attend church twice a week and often participate in its events, and if they'd had enough money, they would have sent me to the best Catholic school in Phoenix too. Unfortunately, though, they never had much money. And I used to often wonder how different they would have been, if they'd been rich. I used to wonder if they would've been less strict and less controlling. I used to wonder if they would've been happier – if we would have been happier.
I still do wonder this sometimes, (The times I think about them, which to be honest, isn't that often anymore.) but now I wonder from a different point of view. A sadder point of view. I wonder if maybe everything would have turned out completely different. If maybe, they wouldn't have done what they did and I wouldn't have done what I did and maybe, just maybe, I would still be alive. Right now. Breathing. Feeling. Simply living.
But I'm not, am I? I'm not alive and I never will be again, and so there's really no point in wondering anymore.
I went to Polis High School. I had friends, of course, and even a boyfriend named Finn, but I wasn't at all what anyone would consider to be "popular". Not even "well-known". I was just me and I was quite ordinary. Painfully ordinary. And I don't mean to sound cliché or anything, but that definitely changed one day. November 2nd to be exact. And I guess I should definitely tell you about that, right? If you want to know me at all, you've got to know about November 2nd.
I met her (and she's truly what this story is about, if it's even about anything) on November 2nd of the last year of my life. She came like a storm. Like an earthquake. Like an explosion. Like a beautiful, uncontrollable, unpredictable chaos. She came and destroyed everything I'd ever believed in. She came and turned my life into a whirlpool. She opened my eyes to the vast darkness, vast mystery, vast pain in the world. She shattered all of my fantasies and childish dreams. She completely and instantly murdered the person I'd been up to that point.
And I thank her, still, every single day and century of my after-life.
I stepped into my first period class that day, and the moment I did, I felt her. Literally felt her. I didn't know at the time what I was feeling (or whom), but I knew something was different. I knew that the atmosphere was sweeter and that gravity was lighter, and yet I couldn't understand how. Sitting at my desk, I wondered if, suddenly, my life had turned itself inside out. Or if, by mistake, the world had begun to turn the other way. Or if, simply, the universe had forgotten how to function altogether.
I spent the entire hour this way, looking blankly at the white board, trying to figure out why my mind refused to concentrate, why my heart refused to settle down into a normal-paced beat, and why my skin refused to accept that it belonged resting on my bones. I tapped my pencil on the desk impatiently, when I heard a "hey" coming from behind me, followed by a light touch on my right shoulder. Shivers tickled playfully at my skin, running up and down and up again.
I turned around hesitantly and found her leaning towards me. She was wearing a black Rolling Stones sleeveless top and a black beanie hat, which still allowed her brown hair to fall evenly upon her tan shoulders (upon which I could make out the beginning of a tattoo) in wavy curls. Instantly, I felt myself become set internally on fire with pure envy; envy of her eyes, her hair, her lips; envy of the intensity she conveyed with just one look; envy of her perfect combination of simplicity and complexity; envy of her beauty. She raised her eyebrows, and gave me a slight smirk, as her hazel eyes met mine and she opened her mouth to speak, "Do you know where room 205 is?"
"Uh… yeah," I replied nervously, trying desperately to hide my surprise upon hearing how the melody of her voice matched perfectly with the beauty of her face. "It's upstairs. I'm going after this actually. I could show you."
"Cool, thanks," she said, nodding and leaning back. I nodded too and quickly turned away, afraid my eyes would refuse to let her go, if I stayed any longer. The next last half hour, (the longest one of my life, it seemed) I spent feeling overly self-conscious, knowing she was behind me. I tilted my head left and right several times, unable to decide how it would look most natural. I brought my hands up to my face and then forced them back down, unable to find where to place them. I tapped my feet on and off beat, unable to keep them still. And I kept having to remind myself how to breathe, unable to remember why it was even necessary.
When the clock on the wall, the one which had stared at me confusingly all throughout the period, finally marked 8:30, the class finally came to an end. I gathered my books and, on my knees, stuffed them hurriedly inside my backpack. I felt her towering over me, her shadow spread across the floor, reaching all the way to the teacher's desk. I looked up, hesitantly, to find her eyes and grew again painfully amazed. From this view, she seemed more similar to an angel with the light above her acting as her halo than to an ordinary Polis High School student like me."205?" I asked even though I hadn't actually forgotten.
"Yes," she smiled slightly, pulling up her bag over her shoulder, as she watched me get back up clumsily.
"Okay, come on," I smiled back, slightly tilting my head towards the door and beginning to walk out of the room. I let several other people rush through first, as I waited for her. "So uh, are you new?"
"Sort of," she chuckled. "I was here for freshman year, but my parents moved around for a few years and we just got back."
"Oh," I said quietly, as we made our way, swiftly through the sea of people. She followed slightly behind me and I wondered if I should slow down, but figured that there wasn't much distance between us really, and if she wasn't walking next to me it was because she didn't care to.
"Clarke!" I heard a familiar voice say. I turned quickly to find Finn standing a few feet away from us, smiling. He wore a red hat that let his dark hair slightly poke out, a Nike sleeveless t-shirt, and worn out blue jeans. "Clarke," he said again once I'd gotten closer, stretching out his arms to me.
"Hey Finn," I said, rolling my eyes and leaning in to hug him. "We're going upstairs." I let him go and tilted my head towards her. "Text me after 3rd period?"
"Sure thing, babe. Hey, you're coming to the party tonight, right?" He asked excitedly, before turning his gray eyes to her. I expected them to show the incredible surprise that my eyes must have expressed only a few minutes ago, but his, instead, remained just as gray and just as dull. "Oh, hey," he smiled at her.
"Hey," she said back, clearly uninterested.
"Oh!" I gasped. "This is… uh…" I turned to her, feeling utterly embarrassed.
"Lexa," she said, smiling shyly.
"Lexa," I repeated, surprised at the sweet taste the word left as it rolled off my tongue.
"Awesome," Finn laughed. "You should come too! Definitely!" She nodded slightly then turned to face me. I looked briefly at her and noticed slight irritation in her eyes, which she clearly tried to hide.
"You're boring us," I smiled to Finn, pushing him away playfully, making him chuckle.
"All right, see you girls later, then," He leaned in to kiss me, but as his lips met mine, I couldn't help but wonder if it made Lexa uncomfortable. I pulled back after a couple of seconds, and brought my head down and away from him. "Love you, Clarke," he smiled beginning to walk away. I nodded, even though he couldn't see me anymore.
I turned to look at Lexa apologetically. "Sorry about that," I began. "You don't have to go to his lame party, if you don't want to…"
"No, it's fine," she shook her head, her hair flowing gently back and forth in brunette cascades. "I don't really have much else to do." We walked quickly up the stairs, and I let her walk in front of me now. Looking up at her, I felt myself become overwhelmed with anxiety.
"Well in that case," I finally said as we reached the top of the stairs, "I'll see you soon… Lexa." I gave her a slight smile and pointed to the room marked 205.
"Thanks," she smiled back and headed towards it, but turning around to face me as she did, so she was walking backwards. "And I'll see you soon…. Clarke." My smile grew wider as my eyes analyzed how flawlessly she glided towards her classroom, and my ears, ringing with the sound of her voice still, rejoiced at such unexpected pleasure.
Sometimes I can still hear her voice speaking my name for the first time. And sometimes I can still feel the shivers running through my skin. And my growing, irrational confusion playing with my mind like a cat does with a ball of yarn. But mostly, I can still feel my heart, though now unbeating, tearing through my flesh in inexplicable excitement.