>•~Falling Upwards~•<

Chapter Eight: Through Someone's Eyes

Sometimes clawing,
Snatching,
Biting,
Clutching,
Will not keep someone from slipping away.

Sometimes fate,
Destiny,
Providence,
Stars,
Will sweep them away.

No, there is nothing anyone can do.
This is life;
This is the hard fact we must face.
We like to blame a higher being,
For the problems we have caused.

That is easier, is it not?
It is easier to find an enemy that is not there,
Then to take the blame.
To find a someone,
That is not fully understood.

*~*

(Another few days later...)

~C~

  I sit by the window. There are some smaller plants inside that I tend to. Although I have healed a lot, I would still place the title of "world's most useless girl" on my shoulders. Nah, not "would still — place — the title of "world's most useless girl" on my shoulders", more like "would still — know that — the title of "world's most useless girl" on my shoulders".

  I play with one of the petals on this branch. Another pea plant. August has taught me a lot about peas. He is the pea-master. That must be how they survive in this horrible climate.

  My thoughts are constantly scattered about. One here, one over there, one everywhere. I see something, and my mind immediately goes to that. What a task to just keep myself together.

  I go from what I am supposed to be doing, which is just watering a stupid little plant, to looking outside. I notice the ways the light plays, and it captures me, like a fish being lured in by one shiny trinket. That, or I see a small mouse scurrying by. Somehow, the most annoying creatures still stand to thrive.

  Not so much mice. More like cockroaches. Ugh, cockroaches. Just the mere thought of them makes my skin crawl. Their slimy little bodies, with legs that protrude out of their sides. Beady small black eyes... Yikes.

  I begin to play with my hair to get my mind off of those nasty creatures. I notice the way it bends over my fingers. My ends are quite nasty. They split off, and look like distorted hay. Just great.

  'Shoot peas!' I remind myself, and fixate back on my task.

  Why, oh why, am I like this? I know that I like what I do. I really do. Yet, I just feel so bad at this. Why? I start off as someone I would find intriguing; as a person worth another's time. Then as I continue, I see others that flourish at what was supposed to be mine.

  My talent. My gift. What I am supposed to be not just good at, but the best at. Then as easily as I come, I can be easily replaced. I know I am not the best, but am I truly this terrible?

  Maybe one day I will become great at my trade. I would be someone worth listening to. A mere person worth another mere person taking time out of our short lives to look at my work. Pssh, my work of peas.

  Maybe I am just delusional. Maybe I should pick another trade to be good at. The weights, and the emotions, of someone who is not me, bear down on me. More like someone who is not me, now. Once I figure out who I was, or am, or will become, then I may figure this all out.

  This is not about peas. Yes, I do like peas. They are, uh, cool, and pea-y. I admire their resilience to live, even here. That is definitely more than what most give.

  There is just a part of me that I don't fully understand, who wants more out of me. A part of me, who has been told; who has been destined to be great at something. However, the person I am now cannot figure this out. She just fixates on anything, and will try to plug that in as a solution to this all.

  For now, I am left feeling hopeless. Alone. Not worth another's time. I am good, but just not good enough. One day, perhaps I will be enough.

  Maybe I should continue what I love doing, which right now is... peas, and also have a backup plan. A way to make sure I will be able to hold myself up, and whoever else might be coming with me, and not drown in unbearable fate. A subject; a trade, which always has a reputation for success. The road to this may be hard, but I see myself as a hard worker. I can get through whatever life may throw at me.

Right?

Right.

  I look back at my peas. While I like this now, my opinions may change in the future. This can just be a fun hobby. After all, if I shoot myself up too high, when I fall down it will hurt much more. If I give myself a bit of leverage to go a bit upwards, then if I fall down, the "fall" would be more of a little hop instead of a massive drop.

  If I do go far, then I do go far. Then my dreams would come true. Having a backup is smart though. A backup I would love doing, and be successful at. If I pick a role just for the successfulness, then every day I go off to complete it, will make it a task. Truly doing something I love should never feel like work. Rather, it would be an enjoyable experience, every single day.

  "Alright C, back to the peas," I murmur to myself.

  I hold onto the handle of the small broken kettle we have. It spills out a trickle of water. The sun harshly reflects on its chipped, stained grossly green surface. Splotches of rust are a series of orange.

  The trickle feeds into a small pot. A little sprout sticks out of this. April, of course, has given me the simplest task, with the simplest plant. However, the life of this plant is still very young. One wrong mistake could mess up the natural cycle these sorts should go through.

  So, although April wants to make me feel small and useless, I am truly honored. I find this intriguing. A challenge, but a fun challenge still. Do not fret, my little pea plant, I will make sure you flourish.