When someone is hurt so badly, it's almost as if they don't feel it at all. The worst is the healing process. The grieving process.
That, and when someone tears open that scar over and over and over again. The pain is unbearable. But you're not allowed to be in excruciating pain unless your limb is hanging off your body. I was in near to be perfect physical condition.
After Liam had left Autumn wanted to brainstorm baby names, just to have an idea. I wasn't opposed. It was something to take my mind off of what it was on before.
"When do find out the gender?" I ask her.
"Next month. I'll be three months." She said. "But I'm not sure if I want to know. I want my baby to be healthy. That's all I'm going to wish for."
"So I'm guessing we're going with gender neutral colors like yellow?"
"Yes. But I don't know yet. I still have to talk to James about that." She said quietly. "So what's the deal with you and blue eyes?" Autumn asked changing the subject.
"Liam?" I laugh. "We're friends."
"You sure? You're saying there's absolutely no feeling between you guys." She then pressed.
"I don't know," I fess. "Maybe one day, but not now. He just has no idea about everything."
"You mean about your mom?" I nod my head to her question. "What does he know?"
"That she's dead. Just not how."
"He doesn't need to know how if you don't want him to. It's not a rule engraved in stone. James didn't tell me until I had dinner with your family, and that was three months into a relationship, not counting the 6 month friendship before that."
"I know." I say quietly. She takes my hand and squeezes it. Autumn was like the older sister I never had.
I wanted to tell him. I did, especially to avoid repeating the same conversation that we had earlier. The only thing that stood in the way was his dad. What would he do if I told him?
Maybe he wanted me to tell him, as it is the truth. And he even said that he didn't want me to end up in my mothers place. However I'm not sure if I could trust him.
It's like it was all coming back, after 10 years. Everything was coming back up again.
"Andi, honey, your food's going to get cold the longer you stare at it." My Dad said as we were having dinner.
"I'm not really hungry," I say. It was almost like I was consuming my thoughts instead of real food.
"You're not going to turn all anorexic on us, right?" My grandmother blurted. She has no filter, but because she was older, it was dismissed.
"No," I chuckle. "I'm just not that hungry right now."
"Something bothering you?" My Dad then asks forking some pasta into his mouth.
"Not really." I tell him. "Just Everything starting to build up."
"I know, Andi. But it'll get better, I promise." My Dad said as he put his hand on top of mine.
I was tired of that question. Something's always bothering me, no matter the magnitude. It could be anywhere from a fly buzzing around my room, to reminiscing on my dead mother. I was never going to be perfectly content. But no one is. It's an unreachable thing- peace.
Peace, especially mental peace, is more of a goal rather than a destination. You'll never reach that point, but it's something that one should strive for. However peace is something that seems so unreachable, given the world we live in and the people that occupy it.
