Regret / whiteviper111
We close our eyes and wish to forget it all—we do, we try.
Just Stop (Disturbed)
Just stop, enough of the limitless critical comments on my life
Just stop the judgment and all of your pseudo-involvement in my life
Step back a moment, and look at the miracle starting in our life
Don't stop the moment, and let the incredible happen knowing that
All that you want is to criticize
Something for nothing
And all that I want is forgiveness one more time
To be the best in the world
Just stop with all of your little deliberate problems with my life
Enough of all the crippling, terrible pain we feel inside
Step back a moment, remember how the miracle started in our life
Take back the torment; I won't be enjoying this moment knowing that,
All that you want is to criticize
Something for nothing
And all that I want is forgiveness one more time
I know that
All that we want is to feel inside
Some kind of comfort
And all that we've done
We can hide
We'll be the best in the world
All I ever wanted was to be a real source of compassion
From the moment that we found ourselves drowning
All I ever wanted was to be a real source of compassion
From the moment that we found ourselves drowning
All that you want is to criticize
Something for nothing
And all that I want is forgiveness one more time
I know that
All that we want is to feel inside
Some kind of comfort
And all that we've done
We can hide
We'll be the best in the world
We'll be the best in the world
Just stop, enough of the limitless critical comments on my life
Just stop the judgment and all of your pseudo-involvement in my life
The world came to a pause today, and all I could really do was watch cloud after cloud drift overhead. It was so peaceful; I never wanted life to move on. I wanted to freeze it there and gaze at it forever.
But forever is overrated. If forever really meant forever, no one would like life, and no one would respect it for what it is—a short time to breathe and understand our surroundings.
Life means overcoming everything, even if you have to get damaged in the process.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see my older sister desperately wipe tears from her eyes. Her cheeks are flushed from crying, and I watch her quietly, before turning away. I want to forget everything, every little detail, but before I can, I have to forgive. We have to forgive ourselves.
It's going to be hard.
Temari, don't you remember it? Remember any of it? The nights spent huddled together, whispering dreams of a wonderful future? 'Course you do.
"Let's go get something to eat; just us. I want to talk," I mutter as she gently strokes our brother's sleeping head.
"What about him?" her small voice questions.
I sit for a moment. Then, "He can stay, I guess. He'll be okay. We'll leave a note. I really need to talk, Temari. Badly." Our eyes meet, and she nods.
"Fine."
Our words, our sentences; they're broken now. Use to, we'd talk for hours, explaining in vivid details a beautiful home with cookies as abundant as water. Now, I'm afraid we might be broken. And our souls blend together, wishing for the best.
Our drive to the coffee shop (which I had decided on) was silent, and after a minute, Temari slips a CD into the machine, wanting to break the heavy air. I instantly recognize it as her favorite one, Plans by Death Cab for Cutie, and smile slightly. She lets out a sigh.
Inside, I take a seat by the window, watching the full moon shine onto the asphalt and late-goers peacefully. She sits in the chair in front of me; we just stare. Then, suddenly, "What?" Temari's voice is quiet, gentle.
I brace myself. "I want it to go away."
She understands immediately. But, "How?" And I shrug, the only answer I can think to give. Temari's blond bangs are brushed back as she sighs again.
So, all at once I begin.
"Remember last summer, when we took Gaara to the beach?"
Her eyes seem a shade lighter; that's a good thing, but deep blue still reflects back to me. "Yeah," she breathes. "We forgot sun block," 'and he got sunburn', I add afterward. Trying to erase the bad parts. Because that next year…that next year it all fell onto our heads, piece by piece.
"And then he…was fired."
It is the beginning of something we have to talk ourselves through, something we have to get out. Dare not say names; too much information. We lean our heads closer together, hushing ourselves still.
"He still had them."
Them.
Our father was a policeman. He was highly respected, but when he got horribly drunk one night and nearly killed someone, they took his license away, almost put him in jail, and almost took us away from him. But he blamed it on the booze; said that without it he was fine. So we stayed. He stayed. But his job went on without him.
Yet 'them' were still sitting to attention on his dresser. 'Them' being the handcuffs he carried with him to work and back.
And 'them' being our youngest brother's greatest fear.
Because he used the metal restrainers occasionally on Gaara. An example being to the handle of a cabinet in the kitchen, so that Gaara could do the dishes For Sure.
Temari blinks and rubs her eyes clear, before connecting her gaze with mine again. There is so much we both know; yet we're afraid to speak aloud. But we have to learn, to rid ourselves of this intense regret.
"Remember the swing set at the park?" she whispers.
I know instantly. Gaara once, when he was maybe four or five, ran away to the park with just a blanket and a box of crackers. He was so intent to stay there; I had to carry him back forcefully. But our Gaara was always intent in everything he did.
"Yeah. And the tree?"
She knows this time too. The tree he climbed into two years ago and would not come down for a total of twenty-two hours. That was back when dad stopped coming home. When he began to appear more frequently, he gradually grew worse.
"The gar—" I can't bring myself to go that far, yet. "The…the room?"
This one isn't a good memory; this one is bad. Flashbacks of a dark room at the end of the hall where you would find a small, frail boy sleeping alone near the closet doors in the back; more afraid of the monster in the house than the monster in the closet.
She nods, and I think those are tears in her eyes now.
"The window." They no longer have to remain standing tall as questions, because a simple statement knows all. Some memories had nothing to do with Him.
Gaara tried to climb out the window once. His arm broke.
"And…and t-the cup?"
It was the glass cup that He threw at our precious Gaara once.
I stand up suddenly, wanting a glass of coffee before we got too far. I walk over to the counter and order; absently taking in the warm, cozy feeling of the Starbucks. A few businessmen are seated a little ways away, talking amongst themselves about some topic or another. Temari is just behind them, at a single table with two chairs pulled up to the edge. She looks too out of place; frown marring her features, eyes brimming with tears as though horrible news had been just received, and hair not properly maintained in a while. I feel a little heady.
I order her something as well, and sit back down with the steaming mugs of caffeine. She sips at it graciously.
"Remember that day, back during his first year at school, when he first learned how to write his name? He wrote it all over the wall, just Gaara, over and over. We had to scrub it off, remember?"
Temari nods, a little smile tugging at her lips as she welcomes a bit of happy reminiscence. "Remember when he poured a bowl of milk for that stray cat, and ended up with scratches up and down his arms? We had to put ointment all over his arms, and get the bowl back from the cat."
I do smile slightly. "Remember the…" I start, only to have her hand stop me mid sentence.
Her look is stern. "I'm done remembering. I love everything we did with Gaara that brought that smile to his face; I don't want to remember what erased it. I know if you don't get this out that you'll remain regretting, but Kankuro, you have to think about the good memories; it's all we have to keep, all we have left." Her tone is soft, like she has an eternity to help me.
I look down at my coffee and swirl a little around with my finger, not really having an answer to give at first. Then, "You're right." That's all I had to say. We knew; we understood.
And the seas of regret let loose past dams of concrete mentality.
I feel free for the first time, a kind of feeling I believe Gaara felt earlier today as well.
Freedom.
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Notes: There is one more part to this; I do wish you like. And the next part will be the last.