Falling, falling, falling. A whirlwind of sorrow and regret. How to explain a torrent of chaotic wonderment that suddenly overcame my life? Oh, but what does it matter. A word, a paragraph, a thousand pages of neatly written text could never explain how deep emotions run into our lives, and how much they can be unseated by them. That's why things are the way they are - falling, falling, falling. A neverending charade that we never even notice we're a part of until that one glorious moment before death, where we realise how insignificant we truly are, right before we drop down into the arms of oblivion. A neverending spiral of broken dreams and shattered hopes, all wound up into one long bandaid that shielded the hate and sorrow for just long enough until we're 'ready' to handle it... and then it smashes you. A wave of needles that pierce through any armor, real or no, until it knocks you down, never to get up again...
This is all I could think of as I lay there, my head filled with buzzing bee-thoughts, making my brain hurt with the silent noise they provided. I was searching for that good spot within me, that one place of shining light where nothing could hurt me, and, where, in one moment of crystal clarity, everything could be perfect. A lot of people tell me I think too much, well... maybe they're right. Wouldn't you think, too, if you had nothing to do but wait on oblivion? Too much of a chicken to get there myself, I opted to stay here in my peaceful quiet nothingness, sleeping most of the time, only sneaking downstairs at night to grab something to sustain myself. 'Cause after all, I couldn't kill myself. Pah. Standing, my entire body feeling like something numb and not fit for use, I stumbled over to the window. It was a lovely view that oftentimes kept me sane - Peeking out into a forest filled with chirping birds. A deer wandered among the greenery, picking it's way through, looking for fodder no doubt. What simple lives deer lead... moving my gaze to the horizon, the rising sun peeking over the forested terrain that seemed so familiar to me. The sky was threaded wth gold and splashed with pink, purple weaved in with the color to create a beautiful masterpiece. Mother Nature always was quite the artist. It looked like something out of a fantasy story - but then, any fantasy story ever written would never include someone like me. Haha. Tears pulled at my eyes even as I turned away, leaving the window like it was in it's open state. I shuffled through the fading darkness until I found the desk. My computer sat there, the clean moniter reflecting the amazing spectacle outside my window. Pressing a small, square button on the side of the tower, I was rewarded with the satisfying sound of several mechanical devices powering up. Computers are so well ordered and neat, the exact opposite of how things are now. Sitting in the comfortable, well worn leather chair I spent so much time in, I waited for the computer to boot up. Watching the flickering lights being reflected off the screen, I soon let myself wander back into my own mind.
Maybe you're wondering who I am. Obviously someone with well means. My parents both work respectable jobs in the city, although we live on hillside, litterally. My room faces to the west, while if you looked from the front you'd see the city, waking from it's nightly slumber. I could imagine the red tail lights of cars already moving through the winding roads of concrete and dirt, headed to so many destinations, yet never getting to the one that mattered. Oh, how easily I trail off. My mother worked as the secretary for the governer, so she was paid well. And my father was a policeman, raking in a lot of money as he saved lives. But since these were both jobs that took time, more often than not I was alone in our big house, with nobody but my cat and myself to talk to. People called me a recluse - it wasn't true, I just... couldn't stand people. Not to say I'm scared of them - I just don't see the point in going places to 'hang out' with a bunch of people my age who would most likely not understand me, and end up stabbing me in the back sooner or later anyway. I'm not depressed, I'm not crazy. I'm... unique. Nobody has ever been able to label me. I'm perfectly healthy, mentally and physically. I'm just different. Do you want to know who I am? Could you take that chance that I'm not someone that would terrify you? Rest assured I'm perfectly normal... I just think too much. Sometimes I wonder if that's hypocrisy, eh. My name is Ryan. Yes, I'm male. Hard to find a guy that thinks with his brain instead of... well, yeah. I'm sixteen years of age. Most guys my age are either the unhealthy and unhappy type or the punk rocker type, or the jock type. Expected to go on to the NBA, or become a great scientist, or rule the world with whatever musical talant they may have. Stereotypes run wild, even here. Well, heh. I'm none of those. Like I said, I'm unique. And if it weren't for the way things turned out I might be fine with life. Maybe I should explain. Life always seems to grab onto us and never let go, right? Well, it let go. It let go and my life collapsed.
It was one of those sunny days, the heat intense enough to tan but not miserably furious. A warm breeze kept the trees rustling and many a bird would soar through the clear blue skies, racing the people below. I was in the park, the one near the cliff. The sea crashed against the rocks below with loud swoosh noises, a steady rythm nothing could stop. I liked it here. Behind me, couples walked about or had picnics, teenagers played frisbee and other such time-consuming games, and 'losers' watched in envy. The same mindless things happened on that midsummer day, as always. In front of me, the clear blue, vast body of water seemed to reach into forever, stretching the horizon to lengths human eyes could never span. I was there for a reason, though. A friend of mine, my only friend, was coming here. We oftentimes came here, her and I, to talk about our views on life. We were together as much as possible. My mother called us kindred spirits, because we understood eachother. We saw things in the same light. She came from a poor family, living on a sidestreet alley, living from paycheck to paycheck. Her father had died in a car crash some years ago, and so she was alone in a trailer with her mother, who was kind but obviously stressed beyond reason. I felt sorry for her... for both of them. People so kind didn't deserve to live that way. It tugged at my heart to see angels living in such rough conditions. I wanted to help them, and I'd often take sacks of food over to their trailor. My mother belonged to a society against people having to live that way, she still is, and it's since helped people greatly. Sitting on my favorite rock, right near the edge, I all but saw her approach. Turning, I did something I rarely do now - I smiled. She was short for her age of fifteen, not more than five foot five, but she was radiant. Her warm brown hair fell in waves from the ponytail she had it back in. Her green eyes always seemed to hold this glow, even if she lived in less than lovable conditions, she was always this happy, glowing angel. She was the only one in this city who could make me laugh. Truly a diamond in the rough. "Hello, Ryan." Her voice was as warm as the sun above us, and she sat next to me. Protectively I slid an arm around her shoulders. Resting her head on my shoulder, she gripped my other hand in her own, as much for comfort as it was for the feeling of our hands linked together. I was content this way, and I think she was too. You're probably thinking I had a crush on her. Heh, maybe it was something deeper... she was the most beautiful, wonderful girl I'd ever met. I was naive back then, thinking nothing could happen. That, so long as we were together, things would be okay. As the sun sunk lower onto the horizon, we sat together, talking quietly of trivial things that I can't remember now. A fight broke out between two of the teenagers behind us, and we turned to watch as the pair stumbled drunkenly, taking blows and giving them. She was smiling, amused, when it happened. One of the bystanders reached into his coat, and next thing, two shots hang out. One flew harmlessly into a tree in the other direction, but someone hit him. He went backwards. I figure the gun was hair trigger, because it went off. I wondered where the bullet went right before I felt the impact. It wasn't on me, though. The angel beside me gasped, blood pouring from a wound in her side. I removed my arm from around her shoulders, intending to reach into the wound and get the bullet out. But I didn't realise I was the only thing supporting her. She fell backwards... and I watched in horror as she slipped off the cliff and into the icy water below. I think she died instantly, the rocks down there are sharp and the waves would bring a quick death. Staring down at the water, I could only say one thing. Her name. Crystal...
I broke out of my reverie of memories, realising my face was wet with tears. The screen before me was prompting a password, and I mindlessly typed it in, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. That was over a year ago. The funeral had been small, only close family and friends. It was right there, by our spot, the ocean pounding against the rocks below. They didn't find her body. She'd always loved the sea. I think it's fitting that she died there. They caught the guy who did it, drunk as a skunk and not nearly as intelligent. He shouldn't have even had a gun. They stuck him in jail for five months, the judge calling it negligent manslaughter. I watched the whole thing on TV, shaking with fury, not bothering to hold back the choking sobs that wracked my body - I was alone again. My mother coersed the state into letting me build a monument there, out of our rock, on the side of the cliff. I spent two days straight on it, with nothing but a hammer, a rock pick and my own mind to keep me going. After that I stayed at home, only venturing out at night, to go to that place. I talk to her. I know she can hear me. The pain has left, and my fond memories of that mistreated, angelic being are in the back of my mind for always. I've never spoken of her until now. I have a picture of her next to my bed - Her smile to radiant and warm, helping me to get to sleep, helping me to stay sane.
Shaking myself once again out of my dangerous trail of thought, I opened up my web browser, checking several things, replying to e-mails and other such business I did every day. A soft tap at my door told me my mother was leaving. I didn’t want to really talk to anyone, so instead of opening the door I stayed still. I heard her sigh and go down the stairs, only rising when I heard the rattle of keys outside. Rushing down the wooden stairs, through a hallway and into the living room and onto the front balcony I watched her get into her car and drive away, turning up the radio and blasting that classical music she loved so much for the entire street to hear. The sun was fully up now, its strong rays beating down upon the few hillside houses and the city below. Sirens sounded in the distance, and the constant blare of car horns told me it was the usual traffic. I sighed. My father would already have gone to work, of course, if he’d ever come back. He always pulled all-nighters. As often as I was alone, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness. Raised an only child, I had grown up surrounded by people, and therefore surrounded by love. At the age of ten I'd started being home alone, and I'd never quite gotten used to it. The big house felt empty without the warmth and noise of happy people in it, and only my thoughts and my cat to accompany me. I turned away from the sparkling city, glorious in the morning sunshine, and went back inside to the sun-flooded living room. The black furniture was leather and comfortable as ever, and the large television sat in a corner. Various exotic indoor plants and such were placed in thick glass vases and pots all over the house. My mother loved botanicals. We had a garden on the side of the house to prove it. It was beautiful. I went out there, to the garden, sometimes... just to think, and to hear the birds sing and the distant roar of the city. It was peaceful, just like so many aspects of my life - quiet, peaceful, the same day in and day out. Sometimes I abhorred it, but maybe that's just teenage agnst rolling it's merry way over me.
I sat in a chair, the soft leather cool against my bare arms, the almost too soft recliner feeling as relaxing as it should be, swallowing me up in softness. I looked to my right, the open balcony doors and the sun. Birds flitted by, chirping in a merry song I could never hope to decipher. I looked to my right. An antique, gold framed, full length mirror hung on the wall. It was a family heirloom, going back a couple dozen generations. It was always spotlessly clean, hanging like a replica of times long past in a chamber of modern enchantment. I stared at my reflection. I needed a haircut. My brown hair with it's DNA-influenced red accents was messy as ever, short but obviously not well kept. My skin looked pale against the black of the chair, but I knew I had a tan - I went on the roof a lot when I was alone, and the sun was like an Easy Bake oven up there. My eyes were their usual emerald green, those strange flecks of gold coming from my father's side of the family glinting in their depths. People had always called me good looking, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a perfect smile, but I didn't see it. I was normal, like everyone else... but not. I sighed, turning towards the TV. Grabbing the remote from a nearby coffee table, I switched the television on and channel surfed, finally settling on the Discovery channel. I let myself be absorbed in the pictures on the screen, watching for what seemed like hours until finally, I drifted off to sleep in the leather-clad arms of that chair, floating into the world of dreams that never made sense. Hazy memories and fleeting wishes blended to become a chaotic sea of if's and what's and should have been's, until I lost all recognition of self and let myself go mindless into the depths of sleep, beyond the realm of forgotten enchantment that was my dream world.