Fic: Comfort in the Sound
Title: Comfort in the Sound
Fandom: N/A
Rating: T
Genre: Drama/Angst
Warning(s): Ideologically Sensitive Material
Word Count: 1,293
Disclaimer/Author Notes: Lyrics from “Marching Bands of Manhattan” by Death Cab for Cutie which I do not own.
Summary: When your sense of self worth deteriorates.
Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole
Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound
But while you debate half empty or half full
It slowly rises: your love is gonna drown
You roar down the highway, startling a flock of birds as you pass, and they take to the sky.
*
She looks up at you with hopeful eyes and a spirit that has been worn down and a sense of self worth that the Church has broken. She looks to you for guidance; she expects a wisdom you cannot give and has expectations you cannot fulfill.
You smile anyway and do not tell her that you will fail.
*
The future stretches out before you, uncertain and full of possibilities, each more terrifying than the last, and you do not dare to hope that one day you will be happy. You do not have what it takes to be happy; you undermine yourself at every turn.
*
Sitting home alone all day leaves you time to think, time you wish you were spending with friends, but the phone never rings for you; and when it does, it is because someone wants something from you and not because they care.
She cares but only because she needs you, and once she no longer does the calls will stop. But even though you know this, it does not make the inevitable reality any easier to bear. You hold onto the feeling for as long as you can even as you push her forward and build her up in the hopes that one day she will not need you.
She will be happier then.
*
You wind your way through the crowd to the table and pluck a cookie from a plate. She follows right behind, and you wait, nibbling your treat, as she hesitantly selects her own. “How is your girlfriend?” you say.
She looks at you with wide eyes and immediately glances around to see who heard. As if anyone could hear your murmur in this din.
As if anyone would be listening in the first place.
*
He runs a hand through his hair and blurts out, “Will you go out with me?”
You blink in surprise, wondering how much longer until this question is never asked again. You wonder if you will miss it when it is gone.
*
Knives and guns and hanging ropes fill your mind when you are alone. You imagine a fight and you grab a knife and slice your wrist open wide; you take a rope and hang yourself and they stumble upon you just in time, and you learn that they really do care whether you live or die. You know you will never act on these thoughts, but still you keep them close and secret and do not let anyone know because you know that they will never understand.
These thoughts do not diminish after you see the blood dribbling down her arm, and you cannot speak. You clean the wound and force yourself not to cry. You do not scream, and you do not shout. You do not go outside to get away, and you do not punch a tree so forcefully your knuckles break open like you so dearly want to. You have to keep yourself together because if you do not then how can you expect her to keep herself together as well?
*
You fail when you try, you fail when you don’t, and you wonder what is so great about going down with a fight when the end result is the same. The problem, you realize, is that you are afraid to fail and you are afraid to succeed and so you stay in a perpetual state of mediocrity. Because if you do there are no expectations and no risks taken, and you can never fall, but you have already failed, and you wonder if falling is better.
*
You stand in the doorway, leaning against the wall. She lays on her bed, not looking at you, while her girlfriend sits on a trunk on the opposite side of the room, playing with something in her hands.
You say “Jesus loves you” because it needs to be.
*
Hugging the motorcycle with your thighs, you spread your arms wide and imagine you can fly.
*
It is not enough, she says, for you to knock down every passage used to tell her that she is going to hell for loving her girlfriend. That only leaves the Bible silent, she says. You are not sure what her point is. But you lean over her shoulder and with a black pen scribble between the verses in her Bible the words ‘it’s okay to be gay.’
She thinks you are a bit of an ass but appreciates the effort.
*
They tell you that you are worth something, but you know that they are lying. You can tell in the way that they never call or text or ask you to spend time with them. They tell you that you are worth something because that is the socially correct response; they undermine themselves by paying you no mind. Then they ask you, “Why can’t you see what I see in you?”
You say, “Because it is not there.”
This is what they have taught you.
*
The girl laughs and pulls you into her lap, silky brown hair falling around her shoulders and blue eyes sparkling. She thinks you are cute and you know that, though you cannot imagine why. She is pretty, and you are confused by what you feel, and the way she is subtly stroking your arm is not helping anything.
You want to kiss her.
You do not.
*
He hangs his head, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy, and you wonder why you need to feel guilty for something you cannot control. You wonder why he is never made to feel guilt for things he can control. But he has an excuse to hide behind, one you do not have.
Sometimes you resent him, but he always manages to remind you why you are friends.
You wonder how long he will be able to do that.
*
“You just need to explore, you know,” says a friend, “that’s what I did.”
“Explore like…go on a date?” you say. Your friend shrugs a shoulder.
“If you want. I just made out with a bunch of different people.”
A pause. “I see.”
*
You pull your hair and wonder why you always hold yourself back. You have hopes and dreams. You are too afraid to chase them. Chasing them means risking never catching them and the disappointment that follows.
Stillness is safety.
The page on your computer screen is blank and remains so almost defiantly. It will answer no questions; you wonder if you expected it too.
*
You think of all the people you could ask on a date and come up with a small list. You know these people, and you know that you could have a fun date with them if they chose to accept, but there is only one problem:
You know these people.
*
She is finding her place and hitting her stride. She no longer needs you, and though this was your plan and your will, the growing distance still eats at your heart. You used to think that he still did, but you do not speak with him much anymore either. Now no one needs you and hardly anyone ever calls.
*
You drive off the bridge, by accident or on purpose you are not sure, and for a moment, as the bike falls out from under you, you really do fly.