Tears. You'd think your eyes would get used to the sting of the salt after awhile, but you really just don't. I guess if you got used to tears, you wouldn't be crying.
Some scientists theorize that tears are our bodies' way of dispelling excess stress hormones. That's why we always feel better after a long crying jag. Well, I remember crying nearly every day after my teammates abandoned me, and I never felt better. That means one of two things.
1) Scientists don't know what the hell they're talking about and need to study more.
Or
2) My tears were too shallow and meaningless to get me to release any stress hormones.
Neither of these choices is very optimistic. But then, neither was I. Far from it, in fact. But that's how depression works. You look at the world through foggy glasses and wonder if the sun will ever come out. But even if it does, you don't think you'll be able to enjoy it, because you're a foggy person, too, as far as you can tell. You're convinced it's not just the glasses. It's everything. It's your eyes and the atmosphere, too. You can't escape, not unless the sun comes out. Soon, you'll stop believing in the sun.
That's how it was for me for a long time. Kaa-san was convinced that I needed help, that maybe I shouldn't be training so hard with Tsunade-sensei, that maybe it was putting too much strain on me. I ever-so-kindly explained to her that I was only happy when I was training with the Hokage, and that if she was so worried about me, then she could just leave me alone!
I can't remember how many times I told my parents to leave me alone. It was so hard to look at them with their seemingly-understanding eyes. They didn't understand. They were each other's first loves, and they married as soon as they realized they loved each other. Neither of them had the right to tell me that it was going to be okay, that I'd get over it.
I hurt them so much. I remember this quite clearly. They could see how hard I was trying to better myself, how thick my happy façade was. Every smile broke their hearts a little more, because they knew it was forced. I wonder if they've forgiven me for that dark month yet…
There was a good side of the dark month, I suppose. Well, not good, but decent. The Saturdays. Every Saturday, the doorbell would ring at exactly eight o'clock, and my mother would saunter up to my room and give me the same message.
"That boy in the green jumpsuit is asking for you. He's worried."
And I would always give the reply:
"I seriously just need today to be on my own."
And she would always nod and leave without another word.
I remember always counting the seconds until she would return with a beautiful daisy, just for me. I would hold onto that daisy all day, not even caring that I was cutting down its lifespan. It was my flower, to do with as I pleased. It showed that somewhere, someone cared about me. And that was my lifeline.
Saturdays were the highlights of that dark month. There weren't that many. Only a few. The Dark Saturdays, as I refer to them.
Then there was the Good One.
I remember sitting up in bed at 5:24 A.M. I had woken up from that recurring nightmare, and I was dead-set against risking another. So I sat up in bed, counting my breaths, not thinking. I was half-asleep, barely aware of my surroundings, but I remember looking at the mirror and seeing tear tracks on my pale cheeks, glinting off the early-dawn sun.
An animalistic warmth crept into my chest. My breath caught in my throat, and every inch of my body got hot. Everything turned red. I slapped my hand to my face and wiped away the tears, growling the whole way. I rubbed my eyes until they were so raw that I would probably have to take eye-drops if I ever wanted to cry again. I looked back up at the mirror, feeling strangely spiteful, only to be bombarded with a red, sore eyes and broken blood vessels around aforementioned eyes. I looked worse than I had before.
I remember feeling fed up. With crying. With myself. With feeling so weak.
I threw my pillow at the mirror, knocking over the Sasuke-plushy that I had made when I was younger and stupider. Then I threw a shuriken at the plushy, hitting it right in the head. I growled in distaste as it started to bleed cotton and plastic beads.
Neh, baka-chan, I think you've regressed back to the anger phase of grief, my second mind informed me, obviously annoyed by the mess the dying traitor-plushy was making all over my bedroom floor.
I think you're right, I replied, throwing myself off the bed. I remember sending the traitor-plushy the look of death as I stalked off to take a shower.
To my extreme displeasure, it took nearly half an hour for the water to get hot enough to be bearable, and even then it was still gave me shivers. That's what I get for waking up at 5:30 in the morning, I guess. In retrospect, though, the coolness helped to kill off some of that primeval, probably self-destructive heat. Calmed me down enough that my hands only shook a little bit as I squeezed my honey-and-roses-shampoo into my palm. I was even able to think straight as I stumbled out of the shower, while on a normal day, my mind would be clouded by my attempts not to think of anything painful. Could I possibly be beginning a good day?
God forbid we have a good day.
Shut up, I replied begrudgingly.
My second mind called me a mean word as I walked briskly to my closet. I ignored her shrill voice as I combed through my clothes, trying to figure out why in hell I'd never invested in an outfit other than my red dresses.
Why do you care what you wear? Does it matter what you put on your back when you're wallowing in self-pity?
I'm not sure what your opinion on the wallowing is, but I'm tired of it. I'm going to Lee-san today.
Oh, so you've finally decided to take some initiative when it comes to your own happiness?
I remember telling my other mind to shove it as I finally decided on the sleeveless version of my training dress.
I give the phrase inner conflict new meaning.
I dressed quickly, annoyed by the fact that I still had had an hour and a half until I would get my daisy.
The memory gets blurry and unimportant right here. I remember wandering my house, discovering that my parents were still asleep, and then going off to make breakfast for myself.
I remember feeling really annoyed as I sat on my sofa and waited as the clocked ticked relentlessly away. I fidgeted nervously, and then caught sight of some romance novel my mother was obviously reading. I didn't look at the title. Instead, I was distracted by the cover art of some guy sticking his tongue down his girlfriend's throat. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, I flipped the book over to avoid the unnerving image.
Eventually, I heard footsteps on the stairs, and I turned to face my mother as she stomped sluggishly down the steps. She looked up drowsily and met my gaze. Suddenly, she stopped moving. She stared at me like I had an extra head and only two eyes between the both of us. (Two-headed Cyclops.)
I remember quite distinctly the look of relief in her eyes as she finally realized that I was really and truly downstairs. (God forbid.) I flinched away from the brightness of her relieved expression—like a cockroach, I decided later—and looked down at my feet.
"Ohayo, Sakura-chan," she chirped, fluttering away to the kitchen to prepare her own breakfast.
"Ohayo, Kaa-san," I replied quietly, trying to bring her back down to earth.
"Sleep well?" she asked from the kitchen.
"No," I said curtly, sharply. All sounds of movement in the kitchen ceased, and Kaa-san reappeared in the living room. She looked at me with confused eyes, studying me. I guess she finally saw my raw, speckled eyes, because she stopped smiling and looked away uneasily.
"Ah," she said, obviously trying to figure out a subtle way to broach the subject of my appearance downstairs.
Like I'm going to make it that easy on her!
You're a sadist deep down, aren't you?
"Going somewhere?" she asked. I remember how her voice had shot up a few octaves as she tried to feign nonchalance. For the first time in two months, I felt like laughing.
I cocked my head to the side and remained silent, just to see what Kaa-san would do next.
She stuck out her tongue and walked away.
She's probably watching you from the kitchen. Like a hawk. Or a stalker.
That's our mother you're talking about, you know.
I sighed and sunk down into the couch. I shot a glance to the clock. I distinctly remember that it was exactly 7:59.
With our luck, he's given up on you by now and isn't going to show up today at all.
I've got a pessimistic sadist living inside of me, I replied unhappily, crossing my arms over my chest.
I had to remind myself to breathe. Each tick of the clock seemed to cut at me as I tried to remind myself that I was doing a good thing by going to Lee-san, and that there was no excusable reason in existence for me to run back up to my room and hide.
Finally, the bell rang.
I could feel my dear mother's eyes on me as I walked slowly forward to get the door.
I had my hand on the doorknob for maybe a heartbeat too long before I finally just swung it open.
He was looking towards my bedroom window when I first opened the door, but was instantly distracted by my appearance. And you know what? The strangest thing happened when I met his wide-eyed gaze.
Happiness.
Does this count as a cliffhanger? I'm not sure...at least it was longer than the other two...
Uh, i like this chappy. It was easier to write than the Anger one. And I actually did--drumroll--RESEARCH on crying for the first few paragraphs. That was fun..
Next chappy, i promise our dear Lee-kun will get to talk.
Until then,
Miyazaki A2