Might I be the first to admit to the world that everybody falls apart during at least one point of their life. Whether it lasts only a matter of hours or a matter of years. Whether it contributes to the loss of somebody majorly important in your life or if a gear in your head just sort of shifts and you can't bear your own strength anymore. Everybody falls apart. Sad to say, that I'd fallen apart more than once. Not just a night where you're in your room crying over having to be alone for the first time in a summer; but the kind of falling apart where you forget what the hell you're on your knees for. Or the kind of falling apart where you're lungs feel as if their shriveling inside your chest, simply because your panicking won't settle down.
My stories of having a breakdown like that are too often to tell. And in way, would I gladly tell any other person about them, other than Connor Anthony; especially after I'd grown so far apart from Addison. I wouldn't let such a strange argument completely jeopardize the complicated friendship I had with her, though. Nothing was too major to forgive someone for, it was just a matter of how people were.
I, unfortunately, was unbelievably forgiving. To think that I forgave Tyler for what he'd done. Even before he'd ended his own life, I still forgave him for it. I told him that.
-
"Might I ask why you're on the roof?" Connor asked me, standing stiffly in my front yard. He was probably nervous that I was going to slip and fall, being as clumsy as I was. I just stood with my feet leveled on the upper edge of the roof top; where it could be the highest place to stand. I felt as if the thrill of wondering what it'd be like to fall was, just for a moment, peaceful.
"Might I ask why you aren't standing up here with me?" I asked him, not looking down at him, but just mentally piecing together what he looked like at that moment. I knew that if I looked down, not only would I lose focus on my hazy staring at the view and the stars, but I would lose balance and fall. I'd actually wanted him to be there, and without even calling ahead of time, he just showed up. It explained our relationship pretty well.
It only took him a minute to make his way through the house and climb out my bedroom window so he could stand beside me. I could feel that he was watching me, just by the sounds his footsteps made when he climbed to the peak of roof, where I stood. I had my arms lifted, just barely off my sides; I could feel how strong the wind was through my hair and the fabric in my shirt. I don't know why I was acting so strange, but whatever was going on in my head was just settling into something peaceful, for once. Just for once.
Then, without me having to look away from the view of the small or feeling like I needed to glance down, even for a moment, he reaches for a hand and takes it in his. There's the kind of moment where you take someone's hand just because you feel like holding it; but I liked moments like that, when it felt like they were living a moment with you, when they stole your hand like that. That's exactly what Connor did, "What's on your mind?" He asks. I knew he was staring at me, I could just barely see it in the corner of my eye.
I smiled, lightly, "Everything,"
"Everything?"
"Have you never just taken a moment to think about everything?"
He pauses, before his answer, "I've thought about a few specific pin-points in my life, but I don't think I'd ever spared the time to process everything."
Then I closed my eyes. Admiring the sounds of the little amounts of traffic; then the way the wind sounded when it would brush the leaves together in the big tree beside us. Everything sounded so perfect; unlike it'd ever had before.
"I can go from thinking about the death of my grandmother, to the way the first tree in the world must've been created. If you think, with all the detail, everything is connected. It's weird."
"You mean... like religiously?"
I lifted an eyebrow, sensing that he would notice it even if I wasn't looking, "Oh, c'mon. You know I'm not religious.
"Then, what do you mean by connected?"
"I mean like... the trees are just as alive as we are. They're created from other trees and they grow to be bigger and they change a lot... they just lack the torturous beauties of life."
"Torturous beauties," I could hear his crooked smile, lifting while he was talking, "as in?"
"Having a connection; love, hate, family, enemies, inspirations, cruelty; they don't have to go through any of that. They just sort of... sit there and be alive."
I could just picture what he would be doing. He would be staring over at me with his sly eyebrow and his crooked smile, while he swung one of his feet back and forth; simply because he could never hold still, "Would you trade places with a tree?" He said, almost laughing. I knew he was listening to what I was saying. I knew that just about anybody could listen to things, but he had a way of listening unlike anybody else would.
"No," I muttered, knowing that my voice was still quiet from the moment he'd arrived, "if I get to go through the beautiful part, then the torturous part of life isn't so bad."
"Is that so?" He spoke as if he couldn't've been more fascinated with whatever nonsense I was saying.
"It is."
The both of us, when the time came along, would talk like a couple of sophisticated lawyers. Just our vocabulary made us sound unrealistically mature; when we weren't. We acted like a couple of kids.
"You're beautiful," he tells me. Out of the blue, he just stood there and stated those two words; unlike I'd ever heard him say before. He'd said things that were similar to that before, but never in the way he'd done just then. Again, it felt like something new.
I just shook my head and smiled. I didn't want to be rude and disregard the compliment, but at the same time, I could never willfully accept positive outlooks on myself, "don't," I told him, before he would fall into some sappy speech. I'd actually loved hearing him go on about things that he had an opinion for, but at the same time, I knew that even if I told him not to, he would just do it anyways.
"No, you're beautiful; in the weirdest way ever, too."
I giggled, not yet opening my eyes because I enjoyed the simplicity the darkness, "Weird, how?"
"You're nothing like those "pretty girls" at school who wear makeup and dress as if their life depends on their outfit. You aren't just someone who meets the levels of "perfection", you're just naturally perfect. I don't get it," he was just barely laughing, for a second. While I felt like I was getting those silly butterflies in my stomach, again, "you say things that most people wouldn't just say. You notice things and think of things that I could never imagine until you point them out. You're so freaking weird, and I love it. You're unique, is the word."
He pauses, just so he could see me blushing. Then he went on, with two final words, "Uniquely beautiful."
That's when I opened my eyes and looked over at him. That kid had a way to make a moment perfect. He just winged things like that. He had no scripts. He had no time to prepare himself for making him sound cheesy, he was just different. I loved that about him.
I had nothing to say in return. I was terrible at speeches; all that pressure would forever be on him. I was never going to be the walking copy of John Green; that was Connor. So all I knew how to respond to how kind he was being, I just looked over at him, hoping that I didn't misplace my footing and slip; and I kissed him.
YOU ARE READING
Imperfect | est. 2015
Ficção Adolescente"but that's the fun part," she says, "you can't tell a soul."
