There's a Long Road Ahead

By Nixosia

One shot


Sometimes I just sit back and demand to know what the hell it is that I've done so wrong in my life. Which family member spit in the witch's eye and got all our asses cursed? Am I being punished for something I'm going to do in the distant (or not so distant) future? Is all the ass kicking coming out now so I can have a few years of rest when I get older? Sometimes I even wonder an outright, "Why me?"

Of course I never get an answer, but that doesn't make me wonder any less. It doesn't make me stop caring. I don't think it's fair that my family, and I need to keep jumping over the hurdles. It's like the world's waiting for us to finally fall. Waiting for us to give in.

But we won't give in. Because we are family. We're a weird family, sure. We argue. We fight. We threaten each other. Sometimes I don't want to do anything less then wring the lot of their necks. But I never do. Because even when they annoy me, sometimes they're all I have.

I'm never going to get another family.

Sure, there are new additions everyday.

But I'll never get another one like the one I have.

Never in a million years.

I don't know what I'd do if I lost any of them. Because I do love them. I love them with all my being, and there's nothing they could ever do, any of them, to make me turn away. There's nothing they could ever do to make me stop loving, stop respecting them. Nothing could make me stop wondering what we did to deserve this.

How far to the smooth road?

For a while there it looked smooth. Looked like everything was okay, things were finally getting better. Straightening out. Then this goes wrong. And that goes wrong. This person has this problem, that person has that, someone's made a big mistake that could ruin everybody's lives.

But I love them.

I love them even when they make me cry - and I don't like crying. Never did. Not because it shows weakness, or any of that stupid crap. Hell, it's perfectly natural to cry. It just the fact that, to make me cry, something really needs to throw my heart against the wall, and shoot it - point blank - with a fire hose. I don't cry over the little things. I just don't. I cried too much as a kid for the little things to bother me.

I hate crying.

But lately everything has been going wrong.

One thing right after the other.

It's a domino affect.

When I feel the tears coming, I always bite my lip, and roll my eyes. Hoping against hope that they'll go away, and I can be the strong one. Because when my dad breaks down we've got a problem. Someone needs to be the rock, and if we're all sitting there blubbering like babies we don't have one. I wanted to be one. I wanted to be the rock, I wanted to calm everyone down, and say that it would be okay.

I never thought this would happen.

Never been told that I was such a good kid.

They could never ask for more.

That's what really got me. In the heat of this, and that, and the next thing it finally came out that I'm a kid they're proud of. Me. The accident. The one that wasn't suppose to be born. The one that got my Godparents to cry out, "Not another one!" at the news of my imminent birth. I'm someone that they're happy to have, because I love my parents. Because no one's perfect, and I can live with it.

It's hard to admit that I've waited so long to hear that. Because, dammit, I'd gotten so used to being called an accident. I was so used to stories of being an oopsy. I hated those stories. Said repeatedly that they made me feel like shit. But they kept coming. I kept hearing them over, and over, and over again. I stopped letting them bother me. Decided, hey, I was an accident? Fine. Now they have to live with me.

To hear that I really am a great kid.

I realized exactly how much my family really meant to me in that moment. I realized that I'd rather die then lose them. Any of them. Ever. The thought that I just might kills me. What's wrong with being human, eh? What's wrong with being stupid, making a stupid mistake, and wanting to make up for it? Why can't we ever be forgiven? Why can't they ever just go 'Okay. All right. You're sorry. Make amends and leave!' or something of the like? Why can't things ever be easy?

When I want to look to the sky, after a lifetime of not, and actually wish that there was some divine force there to listen, we've got a problem. Because I don't do that. I don't. I can't just spend my life knowing that I don't believe (and this is not me preaching here) and suddenly decide that I do. I can't. I'm not that type of person. Mind, I'm also not the type to go around denying that there is a possibility. Because there is. There always is. There's no proof for or against the idea. I just choose to say 'hell no' until my concrete proof finally arrives. I mean, as far as I know there's some random, 70's dayglow orange elephant running the show.

For some people, I do wish though. For some people I hope there's a God, a savior, a heaven. I'd want my grandparents to go there when they die, given there was one. I'd want my parents, and my sister, and my friends to all go there when their times arrive. I don't care about me. I really couldn't care less about me. Because I could handle anything, knowing they were safe.

I couldn't live knowing that they weren't though.

Or even worse; Not knowing.

I really want to know how things got so bad.

Even to my own ears it sounds like I'm telling a typical sob story. Because I am. Everywhere you hear people saying how they've been wronged. How this is bad, and this is bad, but this is worse, and it's all happening to them. And I hate it when people do that. Because no matter what there is always someone worse off then you.

But regardless of that knowledge, the fact that yes there are people in this world with lives far, far worse then my own, those are their lives, not mine. Yes, I pity them. In my own little way I pity them, whether they want pity, or deserve pity. Because I don't think anyone deserves anything that bad. But this is the nightmare I'm living through, and I'm such a damned hypocrite for feeling so. I don't have to live through theirs, I have to live through mine.

Somehow I have to survive it.

It hasn't even been a week and I'm having problems staying on my feet. I don't scare easy, never really have, but I'm downright terrified. I'm terrified, and completely helpless. I can't do a damn thing and I hate it more then I've ever hated anything, or anyone. Not knowing what's going to happen. Not knowing what can happen. But knowing full well that there is the possibility that something unpleasant will happen.

Sometimes I wonder how I manage to drag myself to school in the morning, working on few hours of collective sleep, nightmares, and little food. Then I get greeted with a multitude of smiles, hugs, and kisses. I've got people who love me, even if they don't say it. Or don't know how to say it. Or don't know how they mean it. I've got people who love me, and I don't think I'd make it without them.

I wouldn't.

I couldn't make it without them.

I can't say that everything is bad, because I'd be lying if I did. Then again, I never thought I'd be thankful for school. But it offers six or so hours of freedom from everything. Where I can sit, and laugh, and love, and forget. As hard as it is to forget. But the worry gets brought there too. Because my friends know something's wrong. But they don't know what. And no matter how badly I want to talk about it I can't. I can't. I can say my life's in ruins. I can say that I'm confused, and scared, and dying on the inside. But I can't say why. And I know that they worry. And I love them so much.

Sometimes I really wonder if they realize how much I love them. If they know I'd do anything that I possibly could for them. But how do you tell a group of people, some that you're much closer to then others, people you have different relationships with altogether, that you really - really - do love them, without sounding odd? How do you stand up and say "Guys, I love you"? How? I say it all the time really. "You know I love you," or "With affection." But I wonder if they realize that I really mean it.

I'd never hurt them on purpose.

Maybe I'm hurting them by keeping my problems to myself. I don't know. I don't know what to do. What to say. I'm scared out of my head, and I don't like being scared. I don't like crying. I don't like being helpless. I don't. I don't. And I don't like admitting any of it for the world to see. But what easier way is there to admit the truth then to a world of virtual strangers you may never meet?

Sometimes, like now, I can't think of any better, if not dumber, way.

I know that there's a long road for me to walk. There's a scary world that needs to confronted. I'm going to be scared. I'm going to cry. I'm going to feel helpless, and I'm going to run away. I'm going to hate myself, and be ashamed of myself. I'm going to claw myself to tiny little pieces, and not expect anyone to even want to put me back together.

But I am going to be put back together.

"I don't want anyone to go out of their way for me," I argue.

"Get used to it," they argue back.

Behind the argument I swear I feel the words "I love you." I feel the words "I won't give up on you." I feel the words "You are worthy, so shut the hell up about it already." From my loved ones, blood related and otherwise. Sometimes I wonder why they even bother with me, any of them. Sometimes I'm weak, and stupid, and a crybaby. I'm so far from perfect, I give imperfect a bad name. But at the same time I can't help but think that they wonder the same thing sometimes.

Dammit, I don't know what to do.

Nothing could ever make me stop loving my mom and dad. No matter how often I may threaten to never speak to them again. No matter how many times I call them annoying behind their backs, and tell bad stories about them. I'm always going to love them. I just need to convince them of this. It gets annoying when you hear "You're always going to be my baby" but I've grown to realize how damned true that is. I am always going to be their baby. And they're always going to be my mom and dad. Mother and father. Mommy and daddy. However you choose to spell it out they'll be it.

Same with my sister. I'll always be the youngest, and she'll always be slightly older. The one who protected me when I was too little to tell the world to sit on it and rotate. She'll always be the one who kept my secrets under penalty of death. The one who grew up with me, and threatened to kill whoever it was that brought about those fateful tears.

I can't go on about my friends enough. They are my family. Try explaining that you'd kill for them to a room of highschoolers, and then come talk to me about being a loser. I love them. God I love them. Maybe I do use the word "love" too lightly, but regardless they'll always be there with me. People I'd much rather forget still own real estate in my heart. These guys'll be there much, much longer still.

But even with all the love in the world, I don't know what to do.

Well.. maybe I do.

I have to keep going.

Whether I like it or not, there's a long road ahead. And I'm going to have to walk it. Somehow I'm going to. We're going to make it. Everyone will. I'll make them. I'll drag them kicking and screaming down this goddamned road if I have to. Because I can't do it by myself. I'm not afraid to admit that. But also because I can't do it not knowing if they'll make it down their road or not. I'll hold their hands, I'll ask them to hold mine.

We've got to make it.

We've got to.


Note: This little bit is in no way related to my current series. It's the product of five days of extreme distress, and just the hint of writers block. I know it's a bit odd, with the style and flow, but whatever. Comment as you will, even on the little things it's extremely appreciated. Said the Spider.. will be updated immediately. Well, as soon as I'm done writing it anyway. Thanks.