She walks along the edge of where the ocean meets
The land just like she's walking on a wire in the circus.
She knows she's more than just a little misunderstood,
she has trouble acting normal when she's nervous.
-Round Here, Counting Crows
You had always been careful. Every single moment, since the Christmas you turned sixteen, you had been careful.
You watched your step. You were weary. Made sure, as if you were standing on the edge of a clif, that your feet were steady. That your back was straight. You made sure that you never looked down. Never looked back.
You made sure that you were alert. Strong.
And yeah, sure, sometimes you would curl up in your bed at night and cry. Sometimes you would take out that box in your closet, just to look at old photographs. But more often than not, you found yourself wondering.
You would find yourself wondering what you would say to your mother if you saw her again. Wondering if you would see her again. Found yourself wondering if she would be proud.
Of course she would be proud, you would find you were telling yourself. You were successful and well ajusted. You were intelligent, and had friends, and a career (well, actually, you had two) that you loved. You had felt pain. You had felt the weight of burden. And you had stayed strong. Careful. Logical. Rational.
But would she think of you as a coward? Is that what you were? By holding in your feelings - by protecting yourself, by being careful - were you being cowardly? Selfish, even? Would that, of all things, be the one aspect of your life that your mother would focus on? Would she see you, see what you were missing, and know? Know that you were like her at all, no matter what your father said? Would she be able to see what you were keeping yourself from? Would she understand?
If she did see it, and did think of you as a coward, would you be able to tell her why? Could you muster up the courage to tell her that it was her fault? That she couldn't judge you about it, because it was all because of her? Would you find the strength within you to tell her the truth?
Could you tell her to her face that the reason you were so afraid to love him was because she had left you? That your own mother - the person who should teach you to put on make up, and help you pick out your prom dress - hadn't been there? That the one person you thought was going to love you forever wasn't her?
That maybe it could be him? That he could be better for you than she ever was? Would you be able to tell her that, yes, you knew that he loved you. And that you felt that he knew you loved him back. Could you muster up the strength to tell her that, yeah, you sometimes saw him looking at you the way that your father had looked at her?
And what would she say if you told her that? What would she think of you then?
Could she ever understand?
Could you?
Could you ever tell him? Would you finally be able to let him know, that yes, on those nights when you pull that box out, you were wishing he was there? That he would just sit, and wait. And simply bethere. That all you could ever want from him was his company? Wether that company be at work and at the diner, or at home, where ever that may be, late at night? That whatever he would let you have could be enough? That yes, you understood that he wasn't ready for you to love him back. That yes, he had carved his name into your heart, and it was never going to face away.
Could you tell him that you knew? That you knew, and you understood his need for time? And that no matter what he did, no matter what he said, you wouldn't care about it as long as he was okay? That as long as he was breathing, you would be alright? Could you let him know that although you are constantly misunderstood, you knew that he never missed a beat?
One day, maybe when you weren't so strong, so careful, you would tell him. Tell him that no matter what, you weren't going to drift out of his life unless he wanted you to? That you were there for good. That no matter how many battles or wars you had to fight so that you could be with him, that they would all be worth it?
Maybe, one day soon, once you weren't so steady, you could tell him. Maybe you could share every Christmas with him. Maybe you could start a family? And maybe. if he wanted, you could both teach a child how to live a proper life. With a proper childhood. With idioms like 'tie your shoe laces', 'don't touch that', and 'stand up straight, you'll have a worse back than your father'.
Maybe then, once you weren't so strong - so brave - your mother could be proud.
Maybe she would understand.
"The first way Counting Crows ever sounded, it was me and Dave in bars and coffee houses playing open mics, doing this song this way. The song begins with a guy walking out the front door of his house, and leaving behind this woman . But the more he begins to leave people behind in his life, the more he feels like he's leaving himself behind as well. The less and less substantial he feels like he's becoming to himself. And that's sorta what the song's about because he feels that even as he disappears from the lives of people, he's disappearing more and more from his own life. The chorus is, he sorta keeps screaming out these idioms these lessons that your mother might say to you when you were a kid, sorta child lessons ya know, 'round here we always stand up straight'...'carving out our names'." -Adam Duritz, Counting Crows
So, I basically think that the Counting Crows are pure genuis. I love them, have all their albums, know all of their lyrics. All that jazz. I feel that this song, albeit so depressing, is so absolutely perfect.
Also, today on my way home, I was almost t-boned by a car involved in a car chase. I just felt the need to say so, and aware anyone that if you've ever been apart of one of those, you will never have my respect. Unless, obviously, if you are a cop.