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 Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 10:11 pm
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 10:14 pm
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: Story Begins Here :
When Will I Know?
The day that baby was born, he came out crying. Most would think this was a normal gesture, meaning that he was just getting air I his lungs, he can breathe, he was alive. Or perhaps this particular boy was only crying because he knew. He knew that in the future, he just may never cry again, and he wanted to feel it that one time and know that he did cry once, he was able to cry that one time, it was possible.
His mother held him, and he was content. He clung to her, he was calm in her arms, he needed her, and he loved her. Perhaps this was a normal thing for a baby, or perhaps he knew. He knew that after this, his love will be compromised until he will never know love again. This would be the one time he would have the feeling of love, but it did happen, it was possible.
His father came in to see him, and to this day his father swore the baby smiled when he saw him. He was happy. Perhaps it was gas, or the sudden twitch of muscles, or perhaps he knew. He knew that later on, he won’t be able to make a genuine smile. This smile to his father showed his happiness. This was the happiness of the moment, the love for his parents, the happiness to finally get to meet them. It was possible.
Everything used to fascinate him as a child. He would play pretend, he would laugh and cry, but there was something sort of off about him. He didn’t play with the other kids. He had no desire to be around other children, and when he was told to, it was as if he was trying too hard. Everything was conscious for him.
It could be seen throughout his life as he grew. He would get bullied I his youngest years, and he would come home crying. Then his mother would wipe his eyes and tenderly ask, “Griffin, why are you crying?”
“The kids at school, mum, they picked on me again,” Griffin would reply between fits of hiccups and tears.
She would hold him close, and his father would overhear and say from behind as he got ready for work, “If they pick on you, just ignore them. They’ll get bored and go away.”
But how did one just ignore it? He took this to heart, and started trying to ignore it, but it got worse. They would accuse him of things and get him in trouble. One day in the counselor’s office the lady asked, “Is your outburst of these constant harassing your peers and teachers a cry for attention?” Attention was the last thing he wanted. He wanted the opposite of attention. He wanted ANTI-attention. He didn’t know what to say, so he just agreed with everything and gave up on fights, letting them trample him, thinking that if he just did what his father said, they would eventually get bored and go away.
However, his father failed to tell him that because of his father’s job as a corporate executive, they would travel a lot, and therefore Griffin would go to different schools, and they wouldn’t stay long enough for the kids to grow bored. They would have their fun, and Griffin would move for a new batch of people to pick on. He tried to play nice, doing little gestures for people, but that didn’t work, he was only weird. He tried to act like a bully, but that didn’t work, he only found himself in a group of unpleasant people. Besides, he didn’t have the energy to pick on others. Besides, they must feel the same way he felt. They hurt the same way he hurt. It didn’t settle well with him.
So he stopped trying around his fourth grade year. He just didn’t talk to anyone, he didn’t look at anyone, he sat alone, he looked down, he went to school, did his work, went home. Then his mother started working days, and she wouldn’t come home until late at night. He had a little brother, about two and a half years apart. His brother was always needy, always demanding, always ‘gimme,’ and he had so many friends. Griffin was curious, but didn’t see anything he could really do or try to be as lucky as his brother. He developed a loathing for his brother. Fifth grade to the middle of sixth was a time filled with emotions. He was sad, bitter, lonely, confused, and yet at the same time he didn’t seem to care all that much. |
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 10:15 pm
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It was a tingling feeling, the sort of tingle one gets when a leg starts to fall asleep and go numb. This was helped with phrases to him such as, ‘Why are you crying?’ and ‘There’s no need to be so angry,’ and ‘Just ignore it.’ It started to seem to him that emotions weren’t necessary. If one really wanted to be popular, it showed on the shows he watched, one would have to be… Emotionless. Aloof. Unfeeling and uncaring. The problem was, Griffin loved to see colors, and watch the sunset, and was amazed by a caterpillar turning into a butterfly and how some animals can have litters of babies. Everything was a marvel to him. Everything was lovely and colorful and innocent. However, there was no one to share this with. No one seemed to share his enthusiasm. No, it wasn’t just to save him, but to save everything else he loved. It was a part of his survival now with his parents gone all the time and no one to confide in to just stay gray.
It didn’t happen overnight, there was a girl in the beginning of sixth grade. She was so beautiful, and she was sweet, and she loved the world in a still innocent way, and she sat ext to him once in lunch and started to talk to him. He didn’t say anything, he was too stunned and felt too awkward, but she spoke to him about dancing, and singing, and classes she liked and not so much. She gave him favorite colors and animals, and her name; Rachael. She offered him her juice box… He liked juice boxes. She then gave him one of her two cupcakes… He liked cupcakes. It was the happiest day of his life.
“Mum,” He told his mother one night as she came home, “I think I’m in love. What do you do?”
Unknown to him, she had a fight over the phone with their father that day, and she was so tired from washing dishes at the diner that she didn’t seem to register that her aura just might affect Griffin’s. “Honey, you’re too young. You don’t know what love is.”
He stopped, and thought about it. “Y-yeah I do. Love is what I feel for Rachael. Rachael is love, mum.”
“Sweetheart, mum’s tired. Someday you’ll see, this is just a crush. Real love is different, you’re too young now but you’ll see.”
Griffin thought long and hard about it. Was it true? He didn’t want to mess this up with Rachael, he wanted her to see him, and like him, and one day he can tell her his favorite classes and not so favorite. He wanted to share with her the wonders he sees, and maybe tell her his favorite colors and animals and favorite drinks and foods… Which was now juice boxes and cupcakes. Though mom was older, and wiser, and perhaps knew what she was saying. So he played it carefully. He watched her talk with friends, and once in a while she would look his way and smile. There was a bully that taunted her named Brent. Griffin didn’t like Brent, he wanted to keep him from Rachael. Yet, he didn’t know how.
To his surprise, a couple months later, she started to date Brent. Once again, the bully won. Griffin was baffled with emotions of others. Why were his reactions and emotions so different than everyone else’s? As a matter of fact, he looked back and couldn’t remember throwing a fit as much as the other kids did. Griffin never acted as angry, or as sad, or even as happy as most kids. He tried to think of the last time he laughed, but nothing came up. Could it be that he was naturally not a person with strong emotion?
Griffin analyzed this. Rachael possibly was the straw that broke the camel’s back, because ever since his failure with talking to her, he completely shut himself down. Even as his family began to settle in one place, aside from some good deeds out of impulse, he never offered a smile, never raised his voice, never lost his patience, and never cried again since he entered middle school. The distance he developed with his parents made him forget intimacy. The analyzing ‘why are you crying,’ left him to second guess any tears. He wasn’t even depressed, he only became indifferent. There became nothing left for him but a gray area. Though even now, as he is in middle school he starts to wonder, ‘When will I know?’
When will he know what love feels like? When will he know happiness, or sadness, or anger again? When will he know how to act like everyone else, always analyzing emotions with actions and seemingly getting even more confused by the second. There is a possibility that he may never know, or perhaps he does and didn’t know it. Either way, he is left with that question for the remainder of his life until it can be answered. |
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