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Post by dayzfan4life01 on Oct 31, 2005 20:00:03 GMT -5
Prologue:
She looked at herself in the mirror and didn’t know who that woman was staring back at her. It couldn’t be Miriam Lockhart, Miriam Lockhart was full of life and zest; no this woman staring back at her was a zombie. Mimi stared at the mirror trying to remember when the last time she felt anything, her body felt hollow, her soul was empty and her feelings were numb longer than she could put a date to. Something had to change, she looked down at the “A” she received from her creative writing class. The poem she wrote about herself.
My Reflection by Miriam Lockhart
I look into the mirror, I see a stranger staring back at me.
She has no emotion, no expression on her face,
It’s like the body is there but the spirit is absent,
Off on some journey, or maybe it wasn’t there to begin with.
I look into her eyes and I can see the hollowness of her soul,
The emptiness of her heart, and old scars,
The only remains of wounds that once bled into her soul.
I look at her and I can tell that she looks like she feels, nothing,
Not an ounce of emotion takes over her body.
No single emotion can be sensed when I look at her;
Happiness, sadness, anger, hate, rage, none of these do I see.
All I see in the reflection in the mirror, is a zombie,
Waiting for someone to tell her how to act and how to feel;
And that zombie girl will create that person right before their eyes.
When I look into the mirror, I see a stranger staring back at me;
Leaving me to ponder these thoughts:
Who are you? Are you real? Or just a figment of someone else’s nightmares?
For the longest time she wished for that person to wake up, but here she lies in the dark waiting. Always waiting to feel something other than the emptiness inside. “No one knew the real me,” she thought, “How could they? They chose to see what they wanted to see and I became that person for them.”
The emptiness was too overwhelming for her, she had to feel. “I want to feel again,” she said to the empty room, “and I will.”
She walked towards to the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the block, “I’m going to feel something,” she said as she pulled her sleeve up and pressed the cold metal against her skin, “It ends now.”
Mimi pushed down at her skin and scratched the skin, thinking it would hurt. She dropped the knife in shock, numb. All she felt was numb. “It’s still there!” she screamed to the empty room, dropping to the floor in tears, “Why can’t I feel?” she asked no one in particular, “I just want to
feel.”
The poem “My Reflection” was written by me.
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Post by dayzfan4life01 on Oct 31, 2005 20:01:00 GMT -5
Chapter 1: Numb
The constant annoyance of her alarm clock told Mimi it was time to get up; to face another empty day. She turned off the clock and sat up in bed, she just stared at her arm. “Why didn’t you hurt?” she asked it, frustrated when it didn’t reply. She pushed back the covers and decided to get ready for the day. She never understood going through the motions, she never found a reason to get out of the bed every day, but here she was heading to the bathroom to shower and change for the day.
Her arm didn’t look so bad, but at the same time she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. She put on a pair of blue jeans and a long sleeve shirt before exiting the building. She walked the four blocks to campus; the whole time all she could think about was the emptiness inside of her. She was sure she would sell her soul if it meant she could feel again, if only for a second.
Mimi’s morning where routine, go to her psychology discussion at 8:00am and then go to the student union, upstairs to the 3rd floor where the student organization offices were, sit there for two hours, then go to class again. It was clock work, it was routine, “I hate routine,” she said as she pulled out her key to the office. But today was different because it was Monday, and Monday meant that she would have a visitor for an hour. Someone to make the emptiness of the office go away for a brief amount of time.
She was staring at the scratches on her arm when he walked into the office. She immediately noticed his presence and pulled her sleeve down. She looked over at him and he smiled at her. She tried to return it, but for some reason her eyes wanted to water instead.
“Morning,” he said as he sat down and pulled out his textbook of choice.
“Morning Shawn,” she said. “Shawn Brady,” she thought to herself, “the man who comes every Monday and Wednesday to his office hours; then comes the other days to mine office hours to keep me company by reading his text books. It’s really sweet when you think about it, those days that he’s not here this room feels empty.” She looked at him being all studious and couldn’t take it anymore. She was going to explode and she needed to talk to someone. She quickly got up and walked out of the office to call Jason, her friend of two years. She looked up and saw Brady Black walking down the hall. She met Brady last semester and is still embarrassed that she opened up to him last week about her depression. But Brady is a good listener and gives the most incredible hugs, he holds you so close…its indescribable.
“Hey Meems,” he said, “I’m going to the office.”
“I’ll be there shortly, have a phone call to make,” she said quickly, “can I have a hug please?”
Brady looked at her and it broke it heart. She didn’t need to ask again, “Sure,” he said as he pulled her into a tight embrace.
“Thank you,” she said when he pulled away. She continued to her retreat to the lounge near by. She reached into her pocket and found it empty. “d**n it!” she cursed, “I left it back there.” She turned around, quickly heading back to the office, wiping the tears when she approached, “Can’t make a phone call without the cell,” she laughed nervously as she grabbed it and left as quickly as she came. She turned the other direction and walked out the door to that stairs that no one ever uses. She dialed the all familiar number.
“Hello?”
“Jason,” she said, “its Mimi.” Her voice was breaking, her tears could be heard.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, “What happened?”
“It didn’t hurt,” she said.
“What didn’t hurt?”
“I wanted to feel something anything,” she said, crying harder now, “but it didn’t hurt.”
“Slow down Meems,” Jason said, “talk to me. What is going on? Is it the depression?”
“I want to feel,” she said, “I cut myself and it didn’t hurt, why didn’t it hurt! It was suppose to hurt!”
“Meems, you cut yourself?”
“Did it not hurt because I didn’t break the skin?” she said, “That has to be it, right? It would have hurt it there was blood?”
“Mimi,” Jason said, not having the slightest clue what to say, just wanted to make her feel better, “That has to be it. You’ll be fine. Your cut didn’t hurt because you didn’t break the skin. You’ll be fine.”
“But I’m not,” she whispered to herself..
“I need to get to class,” he said.
“I have office hours,” she said, “and I took way too much of your time…”
“Don’t even finish that sentence, you’re not a bother,” he said, “You’re going to be fine Mimi. There is nothing to worry about.”
“Okay,” she said, “bye,” hanging up the phone before he could say good-bye. “I have everything to worry about! I can’t feel the pain!” Mimi got back up and walked back to the office. When she reached the door she could hear Brady and Shawn laughing. She took a deep breathe, “You can do this Meems,” she coached herself. She walked into the office and sat down. She pretended to read her book, but the whole time trying not to break out into tears.
“I’ll telling you Shawn,” Brady said, “it would be awesome to get shot.”
“What!” Mimi said turning around, “How can that be awesome!”
“Not to die,” Brady said, “but a battle wound, a story to tell.”
“Yeah,” Shawn agreed, “you could be like, look how bad I am. I got shot, almost died…”
Mimi covered her ears and hummed to herself; trying to block their conversation. It didn’t seem fair to her, all she wanted to do was die. But no one would let her die. But they could joke about it. A few sobs escaped her mouth, she was hoping they didn’t hear it. After a few seconds, she couldn’t hear anything. She removed her hands from her ears just slightly to test the waters. All she heard was silence. She removed her hands and went back to pretending to read.
“What’s wrong?” Shawn asked, giving her that look of concern.
“Nothing,” she said, “nothing at all.” She tried hard not to look at them.
“We heard you crying,” Brady said.
“It’s not right to joke about death,” she deadpan.
“What’s wrong?” Shawn asked again, his eyes never left her since he heard that first sob leave her mouth. To be truthful, since he saw her cover her ears and rock back and forth.
“It’s the eyes huh?” she said, “Red and puffy, dead give away huh?”
“Yeah,” Shawn said, biting his lower lip and raising his eyebrows slightly, a look Mimi learned a while back was his concern look, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing doesn’t make you cry,” Brady said.
Mimi couldn’t take her eyes off of Shawn; she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. But she couldn’t tell them. How could she? They would look at her differently, she couldn’t bare it. “No,” she whispered.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me,” Shawn said with determination.
“You have class that you can’t skip,” Mimi said with a smile saying ‘ha, I win.’
“That’s not for another 45 minutes,” Shawn said, “so I’m going to be here until then and you’re going to tell me what’s wrong.”
“Not going to happen,” she said, “so Brady, how are you doing today?”
“I’m not going to let you change the topic,” Brady said, “tell us what’s wrong.”
“I can’t tell you,” she said, “you wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” Shawn said.
Mimi didn’t speak for the next ten minutes, she figured she could just be silent the whole time, but all she wanted to do was cry. Which seemed crazy, since she couldn’t feel the tears.
“You can’t carry this burden yourself,” Shawn said.
“Yes I can!” Mimi screamed, “It’s my problem! My burden! Mine alone!”
“God tells us to carry each others burdens,” Shawn said.
“You can’t have this one,” she said, “ask for another one.”
“This is the one that’s causing you pain,” Shawn responded, “It’s the one I want.”
“If you go to class now I’ll give you a hug,” Mimi offered; remembering their last Campus Crusade meeting where Shawn introduced her to the whole ‘Christians like to hug’ theory of his; even though she hated them with a passion. She still had nightmares of Shawn, Brady, and Rex sandwich her into multiple hugs. In her family you only hugged people for three reasons. Number one, someone died; number two, you hadn’t seen someone for a long time or they are going away for a long time and you liked them; and number three, you’re having an emotional breakdown and you need someone to hug you and tell you it will all be alright.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Shawn pleaded with her, “I can help you. I want to help you carry this burden.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Yes I do,” Shawn said, “I want to help you.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I love you,” he said.
Her eyes widen at his words. “You can’t love me!” Mimi yelled back, “You’ve only known me for three months, you couldn’t possibly love me!” Mimi was silently kicking herself for this, he gotten close to her defensive wall. He was a threat she didn’t see coming; how could she? They barely knew each other.
“Three months is a long time,” Shawn said, “plus we spent how many hours a week in this office together.”
“Reading text books!”
“I love you,” he said again, “get over it. Now tell me what’s bothering you.”
“You can’t handle it,” she said, “please stop asking me.”
“I’ll take my hug now,” he said putting his things into his bag.
“That was a time related bargain,” she said, crossing her arms, “you were suppose to leave at that moment.” He gave her a look that said ‘hug now.’ She rolled her eyes and hugged him. She tried to pull away, but he held onto her.
“I love you,” he said, “and I mean it. I want to help you with this burden.”
“You really want to know,” she asked as she watched him nod. She pulled up her sleeve to show one scratch from the knife, “and it didn’t hurt.” More tears poured from her eyes as she felt him hug her again.
He didn’t know what to say, what words could be said? It was a small scratch that didn’t seem to amount for much. It looked like her cat nailed her with his claws. He let her go, “I need to go to class now. I’m here for you.” Mimi just nodded as he left.
“You Madame need to get to class,” Brady said, “so you can learn all about that crazy psych stuff and tell me and Shawn until we say…”
“Like you could have lived you’re whole life without knowing it,” she said rolling her eyes as he mimic his voice.
“Exactly.”
“I’m going,” she said putting her stuff into her bag, “Brady can I ask you for another one of those Brady Black hugs.”
“Sure,” he said standing up to hug her.
“And can you lie to me and tell me everything is going to be alright?”
He wrapped his arms around her, “Everything is going to be all right Meems.”
And in that moment of time when his arms were around her holding her tight, she believed him. She walked out of the office and went to class. When she got home she ran to the kitchen and grabbed another knife. “It didn’t hurt before,” Mimi said, “because I didn’t break the skin. It didn’t bleed. Now I know what to do to make me feel something.” She put the knife against her skin and started cutting horizontally across her arm. After several cuts she threw the knife in the sink defeated, “Why aren’t you hurting? Why am I still numb?”
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Post by dayzfan4life01 on Oct 31, 2005 20:02:17 GMT -5
Chapter 2: Please Don’t Say You Love Me
May 1
I cut myself again today to see if it would hurt. It hurt a little, but I’m not sure if it was enough pain. It felt like a prick when it should have hurt more. It bled like crazy, I watched as the blood poured out of me. The cut didn’t seem that deep to for the amount of blood that came out. It took forever to stop bleeding, but it finally stopped. Why can’t I stop cutting my arm? I lie awake at night just starting at the wounds wondering when it will begin to hurt. I just can’t stop staring at the wounds. Why can’t I peel my eyes away from it?
As you can see my life hasn’t gotten any better since the last time you heard from me. Shawn’s words are still echoing through my mind, “I love you.” His eyes full of love when he said those three awful words haunt me more than the knife that lies on my desk taunting me. I do not blame Shawn for loving me; I blame me for him loving me. I failed him. He couldn’t possibly love me. He doesn’t even know me, he loves that person in his mind but she’s not me. I’m too terrible for words, I am unworthy of love. I am unlovable, now he needs to realize that so life can continue as normal. Well normal as it can be when you are abnormal. Hey I take psychology classes, I know that what I am doing, what I am not normal. Normal people do not fear love and all things sharp and pointy.
The bleeding finally stopped and my arm is securely wrapped up. They will probably scar, like I care. Now I will just carry my scars on the outside as well as the inside. I change into my pajamas and throw away the bloody gauze. Tomorrow will be a better day, it has to be. I will find a way to push away Shawn Brady. It is what I do best, making people go away; I’ve perfected it into an art form. I stare at my bandages as I wait to fall asleep, “Please God,” I beg, “please bring me pain.” Sometimes you don’t really know what you’re asking for until it’s too late.
The next day…
The stupid alarm clock woke me up again, why did I have to wake up? I hate every morning I wake up more and more. The day I don’t wake up will be a better place for everyone. I was not meant for this world. I am the nightmare that we need to wake up from. Yes, I said we, because I need to wake up as well. Part of me still thinks I’m real that I do exist, but it should be crushed soon don’t worry about that.
Today is Monday; I usually love Mondays because I get to see Shawn. I’ve never met anyone like Shawn before; he’s so pure and innocent. There are times when he looks at me I feel like he’s looking right through me. But I don’t belong in his world, nor do I deserve to be loved by him. I am unworthy of all love starting with God and ending with His people. Shawn’s too good of a person. I’m poison, I’ll poison his goodness. I’ll drive him to hate me and he’ll runaway. That’s how it should be, that’s how it is meant to be, “Please God,” I beg, “make him hate me.”
I’m sitting in the office again, like my Monday morning routine, sleeve rolled up and my finger is grazing across my skin. My once smooth skin is now rough with scabs. Shawn walks in and I quickly cover my arm and go on pretending to read my textbook I had pulled out earlier. Neither one of us talk as he pulls out his textbook and begins to read it. I look over at him a few times and see him reading something. I can’t take it anymore, I’m about to explode with the anger of his betrayal boiling in my blood. How dare he love me! Does he not know the rules! “Take it back,” I tell him in my best angry voice.
“Take what back?” he said innocently. Innocent I disagree, he knows what I am talking about.
“Take it back!” I insist.
“I can’t,” he said, “I cannot tell a lie. Well I can, but I’m not going to.”
Now he’s really making me angry, “Take it back now,” I demand, “it’s not true, it cannot be true. You cannot love me so take it back.”
“I love you,” Shawn said with determination.
“You can’t,” I tell him, “I am completely and utterly unlovable. That is the truth, so take it back!”
“I won’t even begin to tell you how messed up that statement is,” Shawn said, “and how wrong it is!”
“It isn’t wrong!” I practically scream at him, “It’s the truth!”
“For the simple fact that I love you says that is wrong,” Shawn said, “and I’m not the only one who loves you.”
“Take it back,” I said with more persistence, “You do not know me; if you knew me you wouldn’t be saying that.”
“I know you well enough to love,” Shawn said, “I know myself and I know how I feel. I love you Mimi, why can’t you accept that?”
“I have some form of depression and suicide tendencies,” I tell him, “still love me?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
“I am mentally ill,” I continue without even thinking. The only thing that is processing is to do anything to get him to stop loving me. Even if that means telling him the ugly truth that is Miriam Lockhart, “That means I am a coo-coo. I am crazy, psychotic. Still think you can love me?”
“I still love you,” he said.
“I’ve tried to kill myself three times already,” I tell him smugly, “I’ve been in the mental hospital because my parents walked in on my suicide attempt. Still think you can love me.”
“I love you,” he said, “Nothing you can say will make me love you less, only more.”
“How about this,” I showed him my arm that was covered in cuts from my wrist to my elbow, “I’m defacing the temple of God, you must despise me now!” I didn’t even think about what I did until I saw the way his eyes got bigger then smaller. His face looked like he was in pain, like he was hurt.
“Oh no,” he said inhaling deeply.
At first I was going to yell at myself for breaking my promise to myself to not tell anyone; but when I saw his face it made me think that this was the best move I could have made. I broke him, he doesn’t love me anymore. Then he continued.
“Now I’m hurting because you’re hurting,” he said, “and God’s hurting because you’re hurting yourself.”
“What?” I said dumbfounded, “This didn’t hurt,” I pointed to the cuts, “so you or God cannot be hurting.”
“Yes, I’m hurting because I love you Mimi,” he said with sincere concern and love in his voice, “and you’re hurting because you’re hurting yourself.”
“This DID NOT hurt,” I told him again, “I’m completely numb, so you can’t be hurting.”
“When you love someone and they are hurting you are hurting too because you love them,” he told me, “I love you Mimi and you’re hurting whether you feel it or not. You’re wounds mean you’re hurting.”
The tears are escaping my eyes faster than I can hide them or wipe them away. I bury my head in my hands. This is quickly becoming a disaster. What a mess I have made of things. Why did I do that? Why did I show him my cuts? He was supposed to hate me for it, not love me! I felt two arms wrap around me and a hand gently guide my head to his shoulder. I can feel his hand rub my back as he comforts me. “Please don’t say that you love me,” I said between my tears, “you can’t love me.”
I feel Shawn hold me closer as he said, “I love you.”
“Why?”
“Because I do,” he replied.
“I have to go,” I said running out of the office as fast as my legs can carry me. Leaving my belongs behind to make my great escape faster. I can come back for them later. Right now I have to runaway from him and I know he’s letting me go. If he wanted to catch me he could, he’s faster than me. But he’s letting me go, giving me my space.
Later that night when I get home the first thing I do is go to the kitchen and grab a knife. I bring it back to my bedroom and close the door. This time it’s not to try and feel the pain, this time I am punishing myself for being so stupid. For letting him love me, for showing him my cuts, and lastly for not getting him to stop loving me. I need to punish myself for these failures, I tell myself as I continue to add more cuts to my collection. But the worst part is these cuts didn’t hurt me either.
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Post by dayzfan4life01 on Oct 31, 2005 20:14:40 GMT -5
Author's note: I know right now its intense and at times can be hard to read (because of the self afflicting violence) but give it a little bit and the story will focus on her trying to get better than trying to feel through the way she is. Also if this is something no one wants to read, let me know and I'll create something different.
-Joise
Chapter 3: Those Three Little Words
May 2
It’s impossible! Everyone I talked to agreed with what Shawn said that when someone you love is hurting you hurt too, a big old GRRRRR on that one. How could I be so stupid! Sure it’s easy to think you’re hurting. But how are you supposed to be hurting when you didn’t even know you were suppose to be hurting in the first place? Shawn didn’t seem to be hurting before I stupidly showed him my arm. Brady and Rex don’t seem to be hurting the way they claim they should. This only proves my point that what you don’t know can’t hurt you and besides Shawn Brady doesn’t know me, he couldn’t possibly love me. So why can’t I shake the feeling that he really does mean those three little words.
I woke up today praying to God that yesterday was just another nightmare that felt like it was real but it was only dream about. But I wasn’t sleeping. It was one of the many nightmares that have become my life. My arm is securely wrapped in gauze as the memories of my conversation with one Shawn Brady flood my mind. How could I be so stupid? Why did I show him my arm? Why did I tell him my dirty little secret? “STUPID!” I scream the reflection in the mirror, “YOU ARE SO STUPID! I HATE YOU!”
Those three little words are killing me. How does he not know the rules? How does it not know that I wasn’t made for love? You may be thinking that I’m some poor little rich girl complaining because Daddy didn’t get me that Porsche for my birthday that he promised me. But I’ve never been rich, when it came to money. I was once rich in love, but she’s dead now. She died when I was seventeen; taking a huge piece of me when she died and whatever was left was destroyed when I watched two of my mother’s greedy brothers and their wives tear apart the only few belongings she had. Which made me questions for years how much her sons didn’t love her the way they claimed to love their mother, my grandmother. But it’s good to know that when someone tells you that you are priceless to them that priceless really means “I value a small piece of land more that I value your life.” Talk about a cold hard slap in the face to snap you back into reality when you are told by people who claimed to love you more than anything in this God forsaken world that you were worth less than most automobiles. That was the final nail in the coffin that made me know for a fact that I was not made for love and worth absolutely nothing.
But I digress, this story isn’t about my insecurities and how worthless I think I am. The real kicker in all of this is that people have the nerve to say that I have no self confidence and hold a negative view of myself when they are the ones that shaped me into this alleged big ball of negativity. I just call it me, it’s worked so far.
I need to get out of the past because it’s the present that has become more bothersome. Is it too much to hope that Shawn doesn’t love me anymore? That after a night of thinking it over he finally realized that he does not love me but that girl he created in his mind that he thinks I am. I look in the mirror open more time before I head to the university, “Here’s to hoping,” I tell the stranger in the mirror.
The four block walk to campus wasn’t so bad today, it only took me about thirty minutes to do but I’m still exhausted. I just can’t understand why I’m tired all the time and everything I do takes longer and is more exhausting then it should normally is for me. When I reach the office I can’t tell you how much of a relief it is to see Brady Black typing away at the computer and no Shawn Brady to be found. “Hey,” I said as I sat down on the most uncomfortable couch known to man, especially when it came to taking a nap on it.
“Just the person I was thinking about,” Brady said.
“Really?” I asked as I watched him sit down next to me on the couch.
“I was thinking about that time you told me about your…your…”
“My mental illness,” I said, “the depression, the thing that does make me the one who flew over the coo-coo next.”
“Don’t do that,” Brady said sternly, “I can’t say that I know how you’re feeling because I don’t. I’ve never had depression myself. And I don’t really understand what it is doing to you. But I do know one thing and that is that you will beat this thing.”
“How do you know I’m going to beat this thing?” I asked him, “What if it is my undoing?” I can see the wheels in his head spinning as he searches for the right words to tell me. Wow, looking into those baby blue eyes and determined face. A girl could get lost in those eyes. If I was a normal girl I would so be crushing on him, which would be a bad thing since he’s my friend. I guess it’s a good thing I’m not normal then.
“A couple of months ago my sister tried to kill herself,” he said, “my mom found him in time to save her.”
“Did she have to go to the mental hospital?” I asked him, “I really hate the mental hospital. I’d do anything just to make sure I didn’t have to go back to the horrible place.”
“Yes she did,” Brady told me, “she stayed for a week and has been on medication and therapy since then. She’s doing better now, the depression is less serve then it was a few months ago.”
“But Brady…”
“I’m not stupid enough to think that it’s the same for everyone who has it,” he said, “but I know you can get through this because you’re stronger than you think you are.”
“Don’t,” I beg him, “please don’t finish that thought. You don’t know anything about that. One moment of weakness doesn’t make you an expert on me.” I didn’t even notice that subconsciously I was running my finger across my cuts that were hidden under my sleeves.
“I have a friend,” he continued, “She’s taking a semester off a school and checked herself into a mental hospital.”
“Depression?” I asked.
“No,” he said, “She cuts herself.” I could see his eyes stay on me as my body tenses up. “With the encouragement of her friends and family she checked herself in so that she can get better. So she can stop hurting herself.”
“I can’t imagine wanting to go into that hell hole,” I whispered, “that will never be me.”
“She realized that she was sick and went for treatment,” he said, “she reminds me of you in a way. She has this strength she doesn’t know about and…”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I told him as I got up and pulled out my psychology textbook, “I’m so far behind in reading that I need to catch up…”
“Hey Brady,” Shawn said walking into the office like he owned the d**n place, “how’s it going?”
“Fine,” Brady said, “Mimi here was just telling me about some psychology mumbo jumbo.”
“Well Meems,” Shawn said, “please feel free to keep that conversation between the two of you…”
“Are you taking it back?” I ask him immediately.
“No,” he said, “I love you. And now that I know what’s wrong I’m not going to abandon you. I want to help you.”
“You can help by forgetting you ever met me,” I yelled at him, “And you can forget that you ever thought you loved me.”
“I love you,” Shawn said, “why is that so hard for you to believe? Why are you rejecting God’s love?”
“I’m not rejecting God’s love,” I tell him, “I’m rejecting your love!”
“My love comes from God,” Shawn explained to me in his understanding and patient voice, “so by rejecting my love your rejecting God’s love.”
“I give up!” I yelled throwing my hands up in the air in defeat, “I accept God’s love and your love. There’s nothing I can do to stop you but no one else is allowed to love me. I’m over on my love quota forever!”
“Do you know what it means to accept God’s love?” Shawn asked me in his concerned voice.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said as I snapped my head up from the table, “you won the argument and yet you continue?”
“It’s not about winning argument Mimi,” he told me, “It’s about you understanding what it truly means to accept God’s love.”
“You’re crazy,” I told him, “Brady will you please talk sense into him!”
“He’s the one making sense here Mimi,” Brady said, “You’re the one who’s not.”
“Oh my God,” I said, my eyes widen, he couldn’t….he wouldn’t, “You don’t…you couldn’t….you don’t love me right? Right Brady?”
“I love all of my friends,” he said.
“What does that mean exactly?” I asked him, “Are we friends?”
“It means that I love you,” Brady said slowly articulating every word with soft caring eyes that never left my own, “and all the freaking out you are going to do now won’t change that fact.”
“You’re insane!” I said, “You’re both completely and utterly insane! You weren’t supposed to become attached to me!”
“We’re not attached,” Shawn said, “we have a connection and it’s a strong connection.”
“And why is it a strong connection?” I challenge him.
“The more we talked other these past few months the more intense our connection to each other became,” Shawn said, “Yesterday you shared something with me that made it that much stronger.” He reached out and grabbed my hand and gently placed his other hand over my injured arm, “I now know what’s hidden beneath this layer of protection and I love you more for sharing it with me.”
“Please don’t,” I said freeing myself from his hands, “this is insane. You both are insane!”
I look up and see Rex walking in and he’s never looked more beautiful than he does right now. For surely as the earth orbits the sun there is no way Rex loves me. He will be the only sane one in this office and he will keep my sanity intact.
“What’s going on?” Rex asked, “Or do I really want to know?”
“Rex,” I tell him, “Thank God you’re here. These two are completely insane. I’m afraid you’re the only sane friend I have.”
“What did they do that makes them insane?” Rex asked looking at me like I was crazy.
“They have the nerve to love me,” I told him. I couldn’t quite read his facial expression but it looks like confusion. “But luckily for me you could never love me. All we do is trade sarcastic remarks and I make fun of that funky applesauce you eat. That means you couldn’t and the earth continues to orbit the sun the way nature meant it to be….why are you looking like that?” He’s looking at me like I’m the one that grew the third head and not Brady and Shawn.
“I’m sorry but I need to burst that bubble you’re living in right now or mess with how the earth is properly orbiting the sun in all,” Rex tells me in the most sincere face I have ever seen, “but I love you.”
“What?” I said baffled, “How? Why? We trade sarcasm; you’re not supposed to love me.”
“Mimi,” Rex said, “I thought you would have learned this lesson by now.”
“What lesson is that?” I asked him, not really sure I wanted to know he answer.
“It’s really quite simple,” Rex told me, “you don’t choose who you love, they choose you.”
“Btu I didn’t choose you, none of you,” I said.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Brady said.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because the other lesson to learn is that you can’t choose who loves you,” Shawn said, “and I love you. You shared with me something you tried hide and scare me off and it didn’t work Mimi. I want to help you.”
“You can’t help me,” I said, “so you can stop loving me.” I grab my backpack and my book and quickly run out of there. I’m really starting to hate those three little words. They have become the thorn in my side.
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