A/N: All I will say about this is that this fic is more for me than for Hey Arnold! Today, it is officially March 12th. In a way, March 12th is like my October 5th.
DISCLAIMER: I, darkangel1326, do not own Hey Arnold! I just own this fic.
It was a cloudy, sunny day. Warm, with a gentle breeze occasionally tousling the hair of any pedestrian in the street. The birds were out, chirping, and filling the air with the sounds of this beautiful autumn day. The sky was a perfect shade of blue, endless in limits. The clouds, moving sluggishly along this azure heaven, had a simple, yet graceful rhythm to their united movements. There were three figures, sitting on a familiar stoop, laughing and talking the day away…
HEY ARNOLD! HEY ARNOLD! HEY ARNOLD!
He awoke from dreaming the same dream he usually had. It was one he wished would never end. There they were, smiling together with him, all three of them a happy family. He'd see his father's accident-prone mishaps and chuckle along with his mother whenever he had an accident. He'd read adventure books with his parents, and keep traveling the world with them. They'd be inseparable.
But, his cursed alarm always brought him crashing to reality. The cruel life he had to endure.
He turned off his alarm and removed the calendar day page. Here it was again: October 5th.
He sighed and stared at the dreaded calendar. It was his worst day, every year. At this point, he knew the routine of the day. No matter how much he tried to hide it, October 5th just…opened fresh wounds from being stitched back together.
He opened the drawer from beside him and stared at it. His parents. His mother, with a similar head shape as himself, laughing next to his father. Despite his injuries, he was also in a thoroughly amused mood.
Why can't things be like they are in this picture? he thought, as he stared at the precious glimpse of his parent's faces. In this picture, they were together, living in the best possible life. One Arnold couldn't help but wish he enjoyed.
He stared at the proof of his parent's existence in his hands; it was the only real picture he had of them. Next to his trademark blue hat, this picture was one of the objects he treasured most. It was the last thing they gave him. It was part of who he was, and part of what they left behind.
Arnold stretched, put the picture away, and changed quickly. After he had on his usual apparel, he sat on his bed again, and took the picture out once more to look at it.
He wasn't going to lie; October 5th hurt. It was not one of those days he could easily keep up his mask. He was tired of wearing the optimistic façade, sometimes; but, the reality was, he needed that façade. He needed to have everyone believe he was fine, even if, deep down, the opposite was true. Even if, on the inside, his soul broke in the slightest, this day, every year. Everyone needed him to be strong; they needed someone to listen to their problems, they needed someone to give them hope, they needed someone to be happy. They needed his mask, and, as time went on, he needed it too.
It was one of the reasons he didn't like to hang out with his friends on this day. As confident and well-liked as he was, he was still unsure of himself. Unsure of what people would think if they found out Mr. Bright Side was broken beyond repair.
Would they really accept his pain? Or would they just use it against them?
He didn't know. And he wasn't ready to find out.
All he wanted was time alone. All he wanted was time to think. He didn't want his Grandpa's anecdotes, or his Grandma's schemes. He didn't want to go to Dino Land, play baseball, or hang out with his friends. He didn't want to take Abner on a walk. He didn't even feel like playing his harmonica.
Today was a day where nothing could really console him. Not his favorite jazz song. Not a new Evil Twin Movie. Not a World Record. Not even a date with his crush.
But, he knew, deep in his essence, that there was really only one thing that would end his misery. One thing that would keep him from suffering this pain again next year. But it wasn't any material gift. Nor was it any famous celebrity.
All he wanted were his parents.
He lay on his bed, trying to drift back into the dream his alarm clock woke him from. All he wanted was to embrace his mother and father. Have goofy adventures with them, and be a complete family, with his parents and grandparents. He wanted a home. A full and whole one; one that wasn't tore apart by the unspoken utterance of the unforeseen events that were yet to be resolved.
But these wishes, with the passing years, were becoming new wounds. Self-inflicted wounds. He hated himself, and how, with every passing year, things on this day ended the same. He was depressed, and he fought to be the normal, regular, everyday Arnold on October 5th. But he couldn't help it. This day always forced him to feel like he had two sides to himself. One side was the mask he created, the one that helped him cope with the loss of his Parents and the side all his friends knew. But the other side was one that he rarely showed. The side his grandparents caught glimpses of from time to time. This side, on this day, was his true form, manifested from Arnold's deepest fear, heaviest sorrow and tragic remnants of hope.
This is the real me, he thought as he closed his eyes.
He wanted to forget October 5th. He wanted to stop feeling this pain and hopelessness. It was too much for him to handle, and, sometimes, he felt this day got harder to face with the tumbling years that flew past him too quickly.
What if it's too late? he thought. What if I can never see them again?
That was always his biggest worry. He knew, with time slipping through his grasp, that the chances of his parents returning were getting slimmer and slimmer.
And what about when there's no hope left? What will I do then? he opened his eyes, and was met with blurred vision. He rubs his eyes and felt a trickle of water running down the sides of his face.
He wiped away his tears with his sleeve and just looked at the sky.
But, as much as he wanted too, he couldn't get lost in it. Unlike his dream, the sky was filled with dark gray clouds. There were no chirping birds in sight. And it wasn't a nice, crisp autumn day.
Today it was raining.
Just like the day they left, he remembered.
He watched and listened as the pallets of water splashed against the window of his room, giving him comfort as well as sadness.
The rain, although he rarely admitted it, was his escape. He inhaled, closed his eyes, and was easily drawn back to this day, years in the past.
The first thing he saw were flashes of brown jackets and then hats. Their hats. Their jackets. When he focused, he could recall the rain splash outside the front door, and a flash of yellow. He remembered a blonde man and brunette woman, but the last thing he saw was the green door take way his livelihood.
He lifted his lids and shot out of bed. He heard the familiar pitter pat of the rain drops overhead, and tried to relax. He tried to stay calm. He looked at his alarm. Only half an hour had passed.
Suddenly, he heard a light knock on his door.
"Shortman?" Grandpa called, a bit hesitant.
Arnold put away the picture of his parents and sat up on his bed. "Come in Grandpa."
Grandpa walked in, mindful of what Arnold was feeling, carrying orange juice and sandwiches. He set them on a stray table.
"Your Grandma and I thought you might get a little hungry up here…so…we made you a snack," Grandpa said, in a gentle, non-probing tone.
Arnold couldn't look at his Grandpa's brown eyes. They were the same shade as his father's.
Arnold kept his head lowered. "Thanks Grandpa."
"Well…me and your Grandma…will…be downstairs, if you need anything," Grandpa said.
"Thanks," Arnold replied.
"If you want to talk, we're here for you Shortman. All you need to do is ask," Grandpa said.
"I appreciate the offer, Grandpa, but, the truth is, I wanna be alone today," Arnold said.
Grandpa nodded, with a sad look on his face. "Okay Arnold."
With that, Grandpa left, leaving Arnold alone once more. He looked at the sandwiches. They were his favorite, but, the truth was, he wasn't hungry. He looked at the juice; it was one of his favorites. But he wasn't thirsty.
He sighed and went back to lying on his bed.
He knew it wasn't healthy to keep his feelings to himself. He knew he could trust his Grandparents. He knew he could trust Gerald. He knew these things, but he wasn't ready to speak.
He wasn't ready to show his wounds to anyone. What if they couldn't patch him up? What if he was too broken to be fixed? What if he could never be fixed? How could he know if he never tried?
At the same time, Arnold was also a bit angry at himself. He always did this: he always spent October 5th thinking of no one but himself. What about his friends? They were probably worried about him. What about his Grandparents? They lost a son when Arnold lost a dad. They lost a daughter in law when Arnold lost his mom. They probably had as many problems on this day as he did. But all he did was think of himself.
All he did was care about HIS side of things.
What if I'm selfish? he thought.
What if dream of being reunited was selfish? Why was he so selfish? Why did he want to be selfish?
He didn't want to be selfish. But he needed someone to talk to. He needed someone to listen to him and give him advice. He needed to be healed. And yet, with every thought of what he needed, Arnold felt guiltier and guiltier over his selfish desires, as well as angrier and angrier for being denied his parents.
He was confused. His thoughts flickered from angry to bitter to sadness to sorrow to selfishness to insecurities and then repeated the cycle.
Who was supposed to save him on this day? Could anyone set him free?
No one could save him, unless he wanted to be freed. But being freed required being healed. And he just wasn't there yet. There were only two people who could set him free. And they were the reason for his torment.
Only the truth could set him free. But, the thing about truth is that it's scary. Unpredictable. If he found out the truth, his whole life would change. His life was hanging on a delicate piece of string, and he was not sure how long his string would last.
Would he be healed? Not anytime soon.
Would this be easier to deal with, as time went on? No.
Could anyone or anything cheer him up? No.
Was he going to forget today? Never.
He looked at the dark sky, and said only one thing aloud:
"Will I ever see you again?"
This question struck him hard. And he couldn't take it anymore.
Arnold cried himself to sleep, wishing he remembered his parent's lullaby, even though he knew he couldn't…
A/N: This is basically what I go through every March 12th. Some things are different, but, for the most part, this is me. This is me without the optimism some people are used to seeing. Without the sarcastic remarks and witty comebacks. This is who I am, deep down, and this is what I feel every year on this day.
Normally, I'd write something cute/witty about how I want any reader to review, but today, this fic...I don't care if you do. I don't even care if anyone reads it. This was more for me, to get my feelings out. That's why its not structured or edited. These are my raw feelings.
Just, do me a favor. Don't give me pity. I don't want it and I don't need it. I'm not trying to sound rude, but I'm tired of people trying to unnecessarily comfort me. I'm not ready to let many people in. I'm not ready to be with people. I just need to be alone. I just...I just need to think...