All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Maybe You Don't Understand
I hate saying yes when you only know how to say maybe. When I asked you why you could only say maybe you asked me why I could always say I promise and not give it a second thought. Well maybe it's because some promises can't be capped and you whispered "I don't understand” and so I said "Maybe sometimes we just can't understand” and I guess you still didn't get it. I said "I'm sorry for my broken promises make a book of them and I'll sign it with my name and just one truth. ‘I'm sorry I never told you it would've made you sad, and I am not a charity case, and maybe you don't understand.’” There's things I don't understand too. Like cancer. Like death. Like Loss. When my sister was diagnosed she was 9. There was hope, of course, like in every cancer case that is caught at stage three. The nurses, the promise things can better but I also knew that they could get worse. Stage 2 is so close where the cancer is practically nothing, but so is stage 4... Where the cancer means practically dying. And maybe that was scary and maybe you don't understand. Chemotherapy, missed calls, shaving heads. Late nights, sick sister, missed calls and funerals. I never called you back but you were there watching me cry and scream. I pull and tug the ends of my dress and stomp my heels on the ground. I sit in the chapel and curse God above for taking my sister from me. I cry and I scream and I yell at God for letting you be here with me. You came to my sister's funeral when I don't even want you here, and not even that you came in a black suit which seems appropriate to the rest, but to me it is revolting and uneffing believes me that you think it's okay to wear that suit! You wore that suit to prom this may. You wore that suit to prom that day I didn't come home. That night I stayed and laid with you and said that I love you and all you do and you wore that suit to my sister's funeral and that's selfish! You are nothing more than a boy who fell in love with what he saw and that's why we always have the same conversation because if something changed you might not be in love and my sister is dead and maybe you don't understand! She was 13, had never done anything wrong. And maybe you don't understand that! I have to give her eulogy now, and maybe you don't understand that, but I do it anyway! My sister had the biggest heart and would never hurt a fly. My sister was a silent fighter who didn't want to share her pain and maybe you don't understand that. My sister really loved me here and maybe you don't understand that! I know that I have lied to you but maybe you don't understand that! When I'm done crying and you say that you're sorry and you know you don't understand me and I scream I KNOW! You hold me and say there's a bigger pain and maybe I don't understand that and you're right, maybe I don't. Maybe I don't understand why God would kill a little girl because cancer is no man's ha. Only God could do that and that is on had and that is why I don't believe in God because I don't believe in harm. Why? Why? Why? You ask me and all I can say is “maybe you don't understand”. Two days have gone by and I still don't understand. Four days have gone by, I finally took my shoes off. Five days have gone by and I showe hit I still don't understand. Nine days have gone by and I haven't seen my mom yet. 10 days have gone by and grandma comes to clean the house. She moved your things Lauren? Now she was the last one to touch them not you and I scream at her and sit on your bed and she asks me what's gotten into me so I tell her maybe you don't understand. 12 days, I'm still in your bed which means now I'm the last one to have touched it but it was you who touched it before which means I'm pretty close to touching you. 14 days. I finally see mom and she says “I know baby, no one understands”. 16 days have gone by and I change and put on my favorite blue shirt and jeans. Maybe I'll leave the house today. I walk downstairs and I see a picture of us and I'm wearing this blue shirt. I'm pretty sure it's still only been 16 days but when I wake up again I have paramedics in my face and a boy holding my hand. The picture on the floor is ripped in half and I have glass shards in my hand. My arms are bleeding and my legs are cut. “Self harm?” They ask, I say maybe you don't understand 5 days in the hospital. 2 in the ICU and 3 in psych which makes 21 total, and I haven't seen mom. 32 days and the boy comes back to hold my hand and says I love you and I'm sorry because he always dirty and I hate sorry so stop saying sorry the only one I need to say sorry is God because he did this! So tell me yours sorry or send me to h---. And the boy says he understand and I say except maybe you don't. 364 days. 364 have been misunderstood but I read the bible today. “Doubt no fear not for I am with thee” I think I'm starting to get it. And Lauren I know you're somewhere better. I hope you have long hair and flowers and someone there who cares. I tell the boy that holds my hand there's something better. I told him I finally get it and he said “maybe you don't understand”.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.