Counting Stars • [Casey x Izzie]

Milkshakes But Not Burgers

Casey

"Are you sure about this Casey?" My dad asked as he set the final box of my belongings by the front door.

Growing up, especially coming into my high school years I could never answer a question like that with any confidence or certainty. I think there's just a difficult, yet, almost essential period of time where no young adult knows anything at all. We all have to go through this diminished period of silence, both physically and mentally, where our heads are in constant overdrive from trying to figure out so many things at the same time. Like, what subjects do we choose? Who do we hang out with? What clubs are we going to join for a few weeks until we get lazy and stop going?

Then there's the inevitable question that should have no answer, yet, society forces us to form one anyway: Who am I?

Who are you? Does anyone ever really know? I mean, I don't remember who I was a week ago because it's different from who I am right now, and it's impossible to know who I will be in the next two minutes. It's an ever changing concept that we should not be able to answer, so why do we try so hard to?

I think it's the fact that when things are unknown, they're too unpredictable. And unpredictable is scary. Surprises might not be because we don't expect them at all and when they come, they come. But being unpredictable means you have a preconceived notion of knowing the ball is going to drop but you just don't know when or where or how or who is involved. And it's that anticipation that we're so afraid to feel, because we can only feel helpless in that situation.

But the thing about me is... I've never been helpless.

At least I don't ever admit it. It was a surprise to me that I got this scholarship but it was unpredictable what it would have done to my relationships. And for the most part I was fine with that, because I knew I could call my family whenever I wanted, and they could come and visit me. I wouldn't have minded too much because I get sick of them pretty easily. And I rarely see my friends as it is because most of them go to Newton while I'm at Clayton. So not much about the move bothered me...

Until I put it in terms of Izzie.

Even though I know we're not together there's this weird part of me that just doesn't want to let go. That, tomorrow when I wake up I'm going to call her to hang out and she'll show up at my front door, greet me with a kiss and a long anticipated hug that I wasn't able to give her as I slept, then we'll head out into an open world that welcomes us with open arms.

But the difference between us is that when I go home, through those same doors that my dad just dropped my boxes off at, I would still be welcome with open arms. Izzie didn't have that.

It's so hard for me to wrap my head around that concept. Where a child feels safer in a big world filled with scary unknown and unpredictable people, than to be at home in the presence of a carer that never lived up to their title.

I never knew that starvation was just as painful as emotional malnourishment. But I do now...

I walked out to the car where my final few belongings sat in the back seat. The flight was tomorrow. I had all of my bags and boxes packed, ready to be shipped and to start a new life. A life that wouldn't have called living because there was something I was missing.

I still hear her voice in my head but recently I feel as if it's fading. I think it's just my brain's way of shutting it all out and minimizing the pain. It just hasn't worked.

"Casey..." Like that... her voice. It seems so close but I can't let myself believe it's real.

That was until there was a hand on my shoulder.