Chapter 3
Last night it was snowing........ I can remember it vividly-- staring out my bedroom window, watching the frozen teardrops fall from heaven.
Poetic isn't it?
I can't help it though.... I've always had this romantic idea about the rain..... The first time it rained after she died, I think I must have stood there, inside the warm Quartermaine mansion, staring out at the cold desolation, and begging for her forgiveness for making her cry, for the better part of a day.....
Now it doesn't need to rain to make me believe she's crying for me.
I've failed her-- I know I have. And no matter how much anyone tries to convince me otherwise, I know what she wished for me when she left-- and I don't have it. I have a family, and I have friends, but I still don't have it-- I'm still alone. I'm alone in a room of people....
So I don't know how to fix it Mama....... god knows I've tried. And lately, I've felt it pulling at me-- dragging me down, drowning me...... It's just gotten so intense, this loneliness, that I think it's made me cling harder and harder to Nikolas Cassadine, like a desperate person to a life preserver. It's not fair..... but it's uncontrollable..... I have this guttural urge to endear myself to people, to him....... I suppose some shrinks call that a 'cry for help'.
Poor Nikolas...... I know he doesn't want me. Not like that anyway.... but the more it becomes evident to me, the harder I try. I don't want to-- I want to just let it go..... Stop making a fool of myself.... But the more I embarrass myself, the worse I become. It's just so damn degrading to be throwing myself at him........ and the fact that I'm growing increasingly aware of it, well, let's just say it doesn't do a helluva lot for my self-esteem.
Whatever that is.
I don't remember the last time I was 'okay' being alone...... the last time I was comfortable in my own skin. I know I must have at one time in my life-- maybe when I was a kid.... yeah, probably..... when I didn't know what the world was, muchless what it wasn't. When loneliness was simply sitting in the dark at bedtime. Now I cherish moments like those. Those few times I can isolate myself in nothingness.... I know I sound like I'm contradicting myself, but it's different. When I *make* myself alone, it actually feels good.... it's something I can do, I can control... I'm alone because I want to be, not just because I am.
I can't keep track of who has come to visit now..... I've been thinking too much. Maybe if I was listening I could have heard something new. I kinda feel like a little kid hiding on the stairs on Christmas Eve night........ I'm listening in on conversations I'm not supposed to hear. Only difference is, I am supposed to be hearing these.....
"Emily, dear....."
Oh god. Grandmother. How long have I been under? They usually don't pull out the big guns until at least a few days have passed.....
"Dear, we really do all miss you very much..... I do so wish you'd wake up..."
She always has had a way of saying the same thing differently.... if that makes any sense. Okay, now I can feel the guilt reappearing...... I need to think of better things, take my mind off the pain I'm causing on the outside, just for a little while more at least......
I think she's gone already. They never let her stay long...... it tires her out. She's not as young as she used to be.... not that I've ever known her to be particularly young... but youthful...... well, I've never known her to be anything but.
I think that we all treat her age with a certain sense of doom because of a fear so pure and simple it scares us. Grandmother binds our family together. She's the one that makes us whole...... the one that often serves as our ambassador to the rest of the world. I can't imagine what we'd do without her....... probably kill each other.
Sometimes I think it's because everyone's known her for so long..... The Quartermaines grew up with her, as did many of the citizens of Port Charles. They can say they've known her all their lives...... I can't. I can't even say I've known her most of mine.
Lots of people can say they haven't known a family member their whole life.... older brothers and sisters.. but I can't even say I've known my parents. I've only known my family for a few years. Not even half my life...... In fact I can say I've never had a relationship with anyone that's been life-long.
God, aren't I deprived?
Poor little rich girl Emily..... I've actually heard girls call me that at school. Not that I'd ever confront them.... They're right. I don't have anything to complain about. How can people pity me when I live in a mansion, and I have a great family, and friends, and even an amazing career now..... What right do I have to be sad?
Sometimes I catch myself thinking horrible, horrible things...... like if I had a disease, or had a bad childhood or some traumatic event in my life, maybe I would at least have an excuse to look back on. I could tell people I was depressed in the past because I had a reason to be, something they would understand..... no one sympathizes with the pain of someone who has everything.
Elizabeth-- She amazes me. She amazes people. Sometimes I wish I was her, I wish I had gone through the same thing as her, simply because I've seen the change. She's become admirable. A new person. Someone people respect, and commend for simply having the courage to get out of bed in the morning....
And she has a reason to hurt....... I don't.
But I hurt anyway.
Last night it was snowing........ I can remember it vividly-- staring out my bedroom window, watching the frozen teardrops fall from heaven.
Poetic isn't it?
I can't help it though.... I've always had this romantic idea about the rain..... The first time it rained after she died, I think I must have stood there, inside the warm Quartermaine mansion, staring out at the cold desolation, and begging for her forgiveness for making her cry, for the better part of a day.....
Now it doesn't need to rain to make me believe she's crying for me.
I've failed her-- I know I have. And no matter how much anyone tries to convince me otherwise, I know what she wished for me when she left-- and I don't have it. I have a family, and I have friends, but I still don't have it-- I'm still alone. I'm alone in a room of people....
So I don't know how to fix it Mama....... god knows I've tried. And lately, I've felt it pulling at me-- dragging me down, drowning me...... It's just gotten so intense, this loneliness, that I think it's made me cling harder and harder to Nikolas Cassadine, like a desperate person to a life preserver. It's not fair..... but it's uncontrollable..... I have this guttural urge to endear myself to people, to him....... I suppose some shrinks call that a 'cry for help'.
Poor Nikolas...... I know he doesn't want me. Not like that anyway.... but the more it becomes evident to me, the harder I try. I don't want to-- I want to just let it go..... Stop making a fool of myself.... But the more I embarrass myself, the worse I become. It's just so damn degrading to be throwing myself at him........ and the fact that I'm growing increasingly aware of it, well, let's just say it doesn't do a helluva lot for my self-esteem.
Whatever that is.
I don't remember the last time I was 'okay' being alone...... the last time I was comfortable in my own skin. I know I must have at one time in my life-- maybe when I was a kid.... yeah, probably..... when I didn't know what the world was, muchless what it wasn't. When loneliness was simply sitting in the dark at bedtime. Now I cherish moments like those. Those few times I can isolate myself in nothingness.... I know I sound like I'm contradicting myself, but it's different. When I *make* myself alone, it actually feels good.... it's something I can do, I can control... I'm alone because I want to be, not just because I am.
I can't keep track of who has come to visit now..... I've been thinking too much. Maybe if I was listening I could have heard something new. I kinda feel like a little kid hiding on the stairs on Christmas Eve night........ I'm listening in on conversations I'm not supposed to hear. Only difference is, I am supposed to be hearing these.....
"Emily, dear....."
Oh god. Grandmother. How long have I been under? They usually don't pull out the big guns until at least a few days have passed.....
"Dear, we really do all miss you very much..... I do so wish you'd wake up..."
She always has had a way of saying the same thing differently.... if that makes any sense. Okay, now I can feel the guilt reappearing...... I need to think of better things, take my mind off the pain I'm causing on the outside, just for a little while more at least......
I think she's gone already. They never let her stay long...... it tires her out. She's not as young as she used to be.... not that I've ever known her to be particularly young... but youthful...... well, I've never known her to be anything but.
I think that we all treat her age with a certain sense of doom because of a fear so pure and simple it scares us. Grandmother binds our family together. She's the one that makes us whole...... the one that often serves as our ambassador to the rest of the world. I can't imagine what we'd do without her....... probably kill each other.
Sometimes I think it's because everyone's known her for so long..... The Quartermaines grew up with her, as did many of the citizens of Port Charles. They can say they've known her all their lives...... I can't. I can't even say I've known her most of mine.
Lots of people can say they haven't known a family member their whole life.... older brothers and sisters.. but I can't even say I've known my parents. I've only known my family for a few years. Not even half my life...... In fact I can say I've never had a relationship with anyone that's been life-long.
God, aren't I deprived?
Poor little rich girl Emily..... I've actually heard girls call me that at school. Not that I'd ever confront them.... They're right. I don't have anything to complain about. How can people pity me when I live in a mansion, and I have a great family, and friends, and even an amazing career now..... What right do I have to be sad?
Sometimes I catch myself thinking horrible, horrible things...... like if I had a disease, or had a bad childhood or some traumatic event in my life, maybe I would at least have an excuse to look back on. I could tell people I was depressed in the past because I had a reason to be, something they would understand..... no one sympathizes with the pain of someone who has everything.
Elizabeth-- She amazes me. She amazes people. Sometimes I wish I was her, I wish I had gone through the same thing as her, simply because I've seen the change. She's become admirable. A new person. Someone people respect, and commend for simply having the courage to get out of bed in the morning....
And she has a reason to hurt....... I don't.
But I hurt anyway.