Categories > Celebrities > Simple Plan
._________________________________________________________.
Hey Dad, look at me
Think back and talk to me
Did i grow up according to plan?
And do you think im wasting my time, doing things I wanna do?
But it hurts when you disapprove all along
._________________________________________________________.
The waitress was in her younger years, her teen years. Supposedly the best times of your life. To her, it didn't seem like it. There was no smile on the pale face of hers, the make-up she wore was light and her blond hair was in an up-do. Her eyes didn't shine, as they were a dull green and the pale yellow uniform was cleaned with no coffee stains.
She worked in a diner on the outskirts of the city, a truck-stop is what it was turned into. From the time school lets out, she's on her way to the diner to serve coffee and food to the truck drivers that stop in for something to eat. Some of the locals have only seen a smile here and there, never always. No one minded though. Why would they even bother asking?
You'd be surprised to know why. Though she would never tell anyone. She just says it wasn't a good day. After hearing that story twenty times, you'd get the picture that she just doesn't want to say why.
When her shift lets out at eleven, she drives home after a very short good night to the incoming work chef. She drives home in silence, all ready tired from school then the added hours of work. Then, she gets home and gets ready for bed. Though, some days she's restless and sits on the couch to watch maybe a half hour of television.
Her dad would be home, asking her how her day went, expecting a full answer she'd say how her day was and how she met someone new at the diner, always making something up to please him. She'd never be good enough to meet for his expectations.
When she got home this time, her dad was sitting on a bar stool at the counter looking down at the paper in front of him. It had her school stamp on it. Report card. Biting her lip, she walked in, buttoning her name badge from her shirt pocket.
"Camilla..." His voice trailed off. She took a deep breathe, waiting for the storm. It's always calm before a storm. "It says here a B+ in English. Want to tell me how that happened? I would like a full explanation for it." He looked up suddenly, pushing his mug of coffee to the side of him, waiting for her to talk.
"I got a C- on our last test, and that might have lowered my grade. I don't think I had enough time to st---" Her voiced was forced, and he knew it. He had all ready known about the test score, he had talked to her teacher, wondering how his daughter had failed the test and her score was less than perfect. The mug was spilled, the coffee had started to drip down to the floor. Camilla's eyes closed, hoping for the best, and not the worst.
"I expect you to get nothing less than perfect on this Camilla. I don't want to hear about this nonsense of no time. You can study during independent study at school and during your breaks at work and then more when you get home after your shift is over, because you do tend to stay up a little bit more. Her father was standing now, his gaze meeting hers, not faltering in anyway. Camilla kept his strong gaze, knowing that the worst has yet to come.
She was tired of these fights. One like this almost every night about every little thing done wrong.
"I know dad, and I'm sorry. I was just about to go upstairs and over the science exam cards for next week." She pointed out to him, hoping he would see through the lie, not noticing it.
"I know damn well you weren't going to do that! Don't you ever lie to me. EVER!" He shouted and moved closer to her.
"I try not to dad! YOU MAKE IT SO FUCKING HARD!" She shouted to him, tears threatening to fall, but she wouldn't let them. That would be showing a sign of weakness, something he didn't understand.
"DON'T YOU SWEAR IN THIS HOUSE! You're under the age and you better not do it again!" His voice equaled hers, though it seemed so much more powerful than her shaky own voice. He never used to be like this, not when her mother was still alive. Her dad used to be so fun-loving and actually used to love her. It didn't seem like it anymore. Her mind slipped back to the thoughts of her mother, the woman of her fathers' every dreams.
They never told her she had cancer and she never forgave him when her mother died, it was unexpected... And she never got to say good-bye. It all seemed so unfair to her, why did he have all the time in the world to say good-bye but she didn't? Had they been too afraid to tell her? As in they thought she wouldn't understand that one day she wouldn't be living?
So many questions reeled through her head about her mothers' death and why she hadn't been told. Now that she was gone, everything was unfair and unequal, that's just how's it's been since.
Camilla couldn't stay out late with her friends, no more late-night stay overs, she had to go to work right after school, she had to study and get nothing less than perfect.
She hated that word so much. Perfect. What is perfect?
._________________________________________________________.
And now I try hard to make it
I just wanna make you proud
I'm never gonna be good enough for you
I can't pretend that I'm all right
And you can't change me
._________________________________________________________.
"Sorry, sir. I'll try to remember that when I get my own life back and you control your own." She nodded to him and started to turn out the door. A hand was on her shoulder, holding it tight. Memories of when her dad used to swing her up onto his own shoulders flooded her mind, he was always laughing and having fun, swinging her around and telling her to duck when they went through a low doorway.
Too bad it's never going to be like that again.
"Just wait, I wasn't done talking to you." More like lecturing me, is that what you meant, dad? That you know I won't live up to be you? I don't want to be you! She just wanted to tell him that. Say that she didn't want to be like him, controlling her kids' lives, making them unhappy as she. It isn't right, never will be.
Turning around, she was still screaming at herself to just tell him what she really thinks. Forget the perfectness and unhappiness, just say it how it is and be herself once again. Where she wouldn't have to be afraid of him dis-owning her just for failing a single test, where she wouldn't have to stay up into the early hours of the day when she had been working double shift on weekends to restudy for a science exam just to make him proud.
"Yes?" It's the only word that could make itself come out of her. Not now, when her mind was trying to kick itself to pieces. He turned her around, to face him once again.
"Why can't you just go to school and get the grades you need? It's not hard to make them perfect. We all know that you like school. Why is it so hard?" That word again. She clenched her teeth and a low growl escaped from somewhere in the depth of her throat. He looked surprised and angry at the same time. She pulled her shoulder from his grip and turned around, her eyes full of anger themselves.
She took the steps normally but pounded her shoes down forcefully on each one, testing the gravity pulling on her. She could hear him sigh and walk off from the tiled floor to the carpet, soft footsteps for the angry times. Why? Another growl came out when he cleared his throat and she knew he was standing at the bottom of the staircase. She stopped and looked up at the ivory color ceiling.
"Don't you think I'm trying my hardest? That maybe I'm just not that great? That maybe I just want to be myself and not have to worry about everything I do without asking you for stupid stuff? Maybe I don't want to work! Maybe I want to go to the movies with my best friends and share popcorn!" Camilla's voice wavered again, "AND MAYBE I JUST WANT TO BE ME?!"
She shouted that loudly. Not really meaning to but as she told him that, her voice had gained confidence and grew. "YOU'RE NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH AND THAT'S NOT GOOD. You need to learn that the real life isn't easy to live in and that these life lessons you gain now are going to help when you're standing in my shoes." He shouted back, "Maybe you should just TRY HARDER."
No. I won't and you can't make me. Her inner voice was making childish eight-year-old noises and sticking her tongue out at him. So badly and so many times she wanted to just do that. So many times that she lost count and she had learned to block it all out, like she needed too. She had no reaction to it. There was nothing she could think off that her dad wouldn't take the wrong way and that would make him even more angry.
No longer was she a young little girl in his eyes. No longer was she his one and only baby girl that used to cheat on 'Go Fish' but looking at his cards through his glasses. She was now an adult that had to learn everything the hard way, that had to work to earn and get top grades then go to one of the top ten colleges in America.
Sure, that doesn't sound like a bad dream and like any other normal parent's dream for their kids.
Most parents are happy with whatever they chose to do though, no matter what. Weren't they supposed to stick to their child's side and not let them grow up quickly? Not in her life. The thought of it almost made her laugh out loud to her ranting dad, which he was doing right now. Shouting things about how he expects the best, and she tries to interrupt at times to through her own words in but that makes him shout louder, to block her voice.
._________________________________________________________.
'Cause we lost it all
Nothing last forever
I'm sorry I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and we can't go back
I'm sorry I can't be perfect
I try not to think about the pain inside
Did you know, you used to be my hero?
All the days you spent with me
Now seem so far away
And it feels like you don't care anymore
And now I try hard to make it
I just want to make you proud
I'm never gonna be good enough for you
I can't stand another fight
And nothings all right
._________________________________________________________.
"STOP TREATING ME LIKE I'M SOME CO-WORKER, DAD! STOP BLAMING ME FOR MOMS DEATH! STOP TRYING TO PROTECT ME FROM WHAT YOURE AFRAID OF! JUST... STOP!" Those words made him quiet his ranting. Yet again, she had taken him by surprise. He opened his mouth in response, but shut it quickly again. His eyes cast downwards, as if the same memories she held were be transferred from her mind to his.
Thoughts of her mother dancing with her father before they left for their high school reunion and then the time that they had gone on a picnic to the Oregon Coast and half their lunch was taken away by a big tidal wave with her mother standing there crying because it was going to be a fun-filled lunch, her hopes down the drain and her father had laughed, trying really hard to comfort her but couldn't help himself. Her father's eyes had looked into hers in the memory about the same time she realized they met each other's gaze in real life.
"I can't let those things happen to you! I tell you that all the time. This is the real world, live and learn."
"WHAT AM I LEARNING? That I shouldn't be with ones I care about because I'm being forced to work because my dad wants me to learn about some life lessons?! What does that leave me to be? I don't want to be like you! I don't want to be a slave my job and have no time for people I love!" Camilla shouted back, a tear fell, silently and unseen by her father. Never did she want to be like him. Not when he's like this. Yes, she did want to be like him because he was so fun and caring. He was her true hero before her mother died.
Always laughing and stealing cookies for her when her mother turned to put another batch of cookie dough in the oven then picking her up and running away to the swing set where they would share it unknown to her mother, who would then see the chocolate on her hands and shake her head with a smile.
"NO! You need to learn that the world is tough and you should learn early on what to expect!" He yelled, getting tired of yelling at her for so much that she should all ready know, but needs to be reminded of. It was hard being an only parent with an only child and when there's no one else their, it was hard to be yourself. Someone needed to take control. He had taken that role, being a father with bigger than life ambitions. Of course he wanted her to be her own person, but live by his rules.
More tears had come down her face, and he noticed them. His ranting never really helped, they both knew it. She would try as hard as she could to push the limits, see how much she could do before she set him off, and it wasn't getting much further these days. There was a nerve wrecking silence between them. Camilla sat on the stair with a soft thud as her teary eyes looked into his own.
"Don't you even care that these past four years of my childhood have been wasted?! Do you? I would love to know. I want to know why you don't kiss my forehead or hug me or ANYTHING! You're not a father figure like you used to be! You're acting like a control freak, and what's that making me learn for my future kids? That I have to yell and shout at them because that's what I heard and saw? That I should teach them to try and do their hardest and when they fail even the tiniest bit I have to punish them?! It's not right!" Camilla screamed at him. Once again, the silence had been broken by her conscience getting the better and making her say what she thought out loud.
._________________________________________________________.
Nothings gonna change the things that you said
And nothings gonna make this right again
Please don't turn your back again
I can't believe it's hard just to talk to you
But you don't understand
'Cause we lost it all
Nothing last forever
I'm sorry I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and we can't go back
I'm sorry I can't be perfect
._________________________________________________________.
For the first time since the funeral, tears fell from her father's eyes. Camilla saw them but couldn't react, she didn't know how too. It's been four years since she had seen her father so open about his emotions. It was hard to deal with. He started to turn down the hall, not saying a word but dismissing the 'discussion' between the both of them. Why did he have to close himself up so suddenly?
"Dad, don't do this to me. Don't walk away because you think you have too! You don't, and you know it. Why do you have to act like this. You just don't understand." Camilla stood suddenly, making herself light-headed. Reaching out a hand to stable her swaying body, her fingertips slide against the slick banister and she fell over. She had tumbled down the staircase, and when she landed at the bottom, she was curled up in the fetal position.
When she had missed the banister, her dad had then started to turn and he saw her form tumbling. Rushing back down the hall, he slid to his knees and pulled her into his lap. He wrapped his arms around his one and only baby girl, though she had grown up too fast... And it was his fault. For the past four years, he had stopped showing signs of fatherly love and stopped being a father figure to her and made her forget about her own life and tried to make her live one he made for her.
"Oh my baby girl." He held her tighter, though not enough to hurt her and rocked back and forth as she closed her eyes. She hadn't broken anything but she would have some bruises. Maybe, at least, she had gotten his attention and maybe, just maybe, she could live her own life again. As that thought slipped through her mind, she wrapped her arms around her dad and made his hold a hug, for the first time since the funeral, she had a true and very real hug from her father.
"I try, baby girl, that's all I can do."
Hey Dad, look at me
Think back and talk to me
Did i grow up according to plan?
And do you think im wasting my time, doing things I wanna do?
But it hurts when you disapprove all along
._________________________________________________________.
The waitress was in her younger years, her teen years. Supposedly the best times of your life. To her, it didn't seem like it. There was no smile on the pale face of hers, the make-up she wore was light and her blond hair was in an up-do. Her eyes didn't shine, as they were a dull green and the pale yellow uniform was cleaned with no coffee stains.
She worked in a diner on the outskirts of the city, a truck-stop is what it was turned into. From the time school lets out, she's on her way to the diner to serve coffee and food to the truck drivers that stop in for something to eat. Some of the locals have only seen a smile here and there, never always. No one minded though. Why would they even bother asking?
You'd be surprised to know why. Though she would never tell anyone. She just says it wasn't a good day. After hearing that story twenty times, you'd get the picture that she just doesn't want to say why.
When her shift lets out at eleven, she drives home after a very short good night to the incoming work chef. She drives home in silence, all ready tired from school then the added hours of work. Then, she gets home and gets ready for bed. Though, some days she's restless and sits on the couch to watch maybe a half hour of television.
Her dad would be home, asking her how her day went, expecting a full answer she'd say how her day was and how she met someone new at the diner, always making something up to please him. She'd never be good enough to meet for his expectations.
When she got home this time, her dad was sitting on a bar stool at the counter looking down at the paper in front of him. It had her school stamp on it. Report card. Biting her lip, she walked in, buttoning her name badge from her shirt pocket.
"Camilla..." His voice trailed off. She took a deep breathe, waiting for the storm. It's always calm before a storm. "It says here a B+ in English. Want to tell me how that happened? I would like a full explanation for it." He looked up suddenly, pushing his mug of coffee to the side of him, waiting for her to talk.
"I got a C- on our last test, and that might have lowered my grade. I don't think I had enough time to st---" Her voiced was forced, and he knew it. He had all ready known about the test score, he had talked to her teacher, wondering how his daughter had failed the test and her score was less than perfect. The mug was spilled, the coffee had started to drip down to the floor. Camilla's eyes closed, hoping for the best, and not the worst.
"I expect you to get nothing less than perfect on this Camilla. I don't want to hear about this nonsense of no time. You can study during independent study at school and during your breaks at work and then more when you get home after your shift is over, because you do tend to stay up a little bit more. Her father was standing now, his gaze meeting hers, not faltering in anyway. Camilla kept his strong gaze, knowing that the worst has yet to come.
She was tired of these fights. One like this almost every night about every little thing done wrong.
"I know dad, and I'm sorry. I was just about to go upstairs and over the science exam cards for next week." She pointed out to him, hoping he would see through the lie, not noticing it.
"I know damn well you weren't going to do that! Don't you ever lie to me. EVER!" He shouted and moved closer to her.
"I try not to dad! YOU MAKE IT SO FUCKING HARD!" She shouted to him, tears threatening to fall, but she wouldn't let them. That would be showing a sign of weakness, something he didn't understand.
"DON'T YOU SWEAR IN THIS HOUSE! You're under the age and you better not do it again!" His voice equaled hers, though it seemed so much more powerful than her shaky own voice. He never used to be like this, not when her mother was still alive. Her dad used to be so fun-loving and actually used to love her. It didn't seem like it anymore. Her mind slipped back to the thoughts of her mother, the woman of her fathers' every dreams.
They never told her she had cancer and she never forgave him when her mother died, it was unexpected... And she never got to say good-bye. It all seemed so unfair to her, why did he have all the time in the world to say good-bye but she didn't? Had they been too afraid to tell her? As in they thought she wouldn't understand that one day she wouldn't be living?
So many questions reeled through her head about her mothers' death and why she hadn't been told. Now that she was gone, everything was unfair and unequal, that's just how's it's been since.
Camilla couldn't stay out late with her friends, no more late-night stay overs, she had to go to work right after school, she had to study and get nothing less than perfect.
She hated that word so much. Perfect. What is perfect?
._________________________________________________________.
And now I try hard to make it
I just wanna make you proud
I'm never gonna be good enough for you
I can't pretend that I'm all right
And you can't change me
._________________________________________________________.
"Sorry, sir. I'll try to remember that when I get my own life back and you control your own." She nodded to him and started to turn out the door. A hand was on her shoulder, holding it tight. Memories of when her dad used to swing her up onto his own shoulders flooded her mind, he was always laughing and having fun, swinging her around and telling her to duck when they went through a low doorway.
Too bad it's never going to be like that again.
"Just wait, I wasn't done talking to you." More like lecturing me, is that what you meant, dad? That you know I won't live up to be you? I don't want to be you! She just wanted to tell him that. Say that she didn't want to be like him, controlling her kids' lives, making them unhappy as she. It isn't right, never will be.
Turning around, she was still screaming at herself to just tell him what she really thinks. Forget the perfectness and unhappiness, just say it how it is and be herself once again. Where she wouldn't have to be afraid of him dis-owning her just for failing a single test, where she wouldn't have to stay up into the early hours of the day when she had been working double shift on weekends to restudy for a science exam just to make him proud.
"Yes?" It's the only word that could make itself come out of her. Not now, when her mind was trying to kick itself to pieces. He turned her around, to face him once again.
"Why can't you just go to school and get the grades you need? It's not hard to make them perfect. We all know that you like school. Why is it so hard?" That word again. She clenched her teeth and a low growl escaped from somewhere in the depth of her throat. He looked surprised and angry at the same time. She pulled her shoulder from his grip and turned around, her eyes full of anger themselves.
She took the steps normally but pounded her shoes down forcefully on each one, testing the gravity pulling on her. She could hear him sigh and walk off from the tiled floor to the carpet, soft footsteps for the angry times. Why? Another growl came out when he cleared his throat and she knew he was standing at the bottom of the staircase. She stopped and looked up at the ivory color ceiling.
"Don't you think I'm trying my hardest? That maybe I'm just not that great? That maybe I just want to be myself and not have to worry about everything I do without asking you for stupid stuff? Maybe I don't want to work! Maybe I want to go to the movies with my best friends and share popcorn!" Camilla's voice wavered again, "AND MAYBE I JUST WANT TO BE ME?!"
She shouted that loudly. Not really meaning to but as she told him that, her voice had gained confidence and grew. "YOU'RE NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH AND THAT'S NOT GOOD. You need to learn that the real life isn't easy to live in and that these life lessons you gain now are going to help when you're standing in my shoes." He shouted back, "Maybe you should just TRY HARDER."
No. I won't and you can't make me. Her inner voice was making childish eight-year-old noises and sticking her tongue out at him. So badly and so many times she wanted to just do that. So many times that she lost count and she had learned to block it all out, like she needed too. She had no reaction to it. There was nothing she could think off that her dad wouldn't take the wrong way and that would make him even more angry.
No longer was she a young little girl in his eyes. No longer was she his one and only baby girl that used to cheat on 'Go Fish' but looking at his cards through his glasses. She was now an adult that had to learn everything the hard way, that had to work to earn and get top grades then go to one of the top ten colleges in America.
Sure, that doesn't sound like a bad dream and like any other normal parent's dream for their kids.
Most parents are happy with whatever they chose to do though, no matter what. Weren't they supposed to stick to their child's side and not let them grow up quickly? Not in her life. The thought of it almost made her laugh out loud to her ranting dad, which he was doing right now. Shouting things about how he expects the best, and she tries to interrupt at times to through her own words in but that makes him shout louder, to block her voice.
._________________________________________________________.
'Cause we lost it all
Nothing last forever
I'm sorry I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and we can't go back
I'm sorry I can't be perfect
I try not to think about the pain inside
Did you know, you used to be my hero?
All the days you spent with me
Now seem so far away
And it feels like you don't care anymore
And now I try hard to make it
I just want to make you proud
I'm never gonna be good enough for you
I can't stand another fight
And nothings all right
._________________________________________________________.
"STOP TREATING ME LIKE I'M SOME CO-WORKER, DAD! STOP BLAMING ME FOR MOMS DEATH! STOP TRYING TO PROTECT ME FROM WHAT YOURE AFRAID OF! JUST... STOP!" Those words made him quiet his ranting. Yet again, she had taken him by surprise. He opened his mouth in response, but shut it quickly again. His eyes cast downwards, as if the same memories she held were be transferred from her mind to his.
Thoughts of her mother dancing with her father before they left for their high school reunion and then the time that they had gone on a picnic to the Oregon Coast and half their lunch was taken away by a big tidal wave with her mother standing there crying because it was going to be a fun-filled lunch, her hopes down the drain and her father had laughed, trying really hard to comfort her but couldn't help himself. Her father's eyes had looked into hers in the memory about the same time she realized they met each other's gaze in real life.
"I can't let those things happen to you! I tell you that all the time. This is the real world, live and learn."
"WHAT AM I LEARNING? That I shouldn't be with ones I care about because I'm being forced to work because my dad wants me to learn about some life lessons?! What does that leave me to be? I don't want to be like you! I don't want to be a slave my job and have no time for people I love!" Camilla shouted back, a tear fell, silently and unseen by her father. Never did she want to be like him. Not when he's like this. Yes, she did want to be like him because he was so fun and caring. He was her true hero before her mother died.
Always laughing and stealing cookies for her when her mother turned to put another batch of cookie dough in the oven then picking her up and running away to the swing set where they would share it unknown to her mother, who would then see the chocolate on her hands and shake her head with a smile.
"NO! You need to learn that the world is tough and you should learn early on what to expect!" He yelled, getting tired of yelling at her for so much that she should all ready know, but needs to be reminded of. It was hard being an only parent with an only child and when there's no one else their, it was hard to be yourself. Someone needed to take control. He had taken that role, being a father with bigger than life ambitions. Of course he wanted her to be her own person, but live by his rules.
More tears had come down her face, and he noticed them. His ranting never really helped, they both knew it. She would try as hard as she could to push the limits, see how much she could do before she set him off, and it wasn't getting much further these days. There was a nerve wrecking silence between them. Camilla sat on the stair with a soft thud as her teary eyes looked into his own.
"Don't you even care that these past four years of my childhood have been wasted?! Do you? I would love to know. I want to know why you don't kiss my forehead or hug me or ANYTHING! You're not a father figure like you used to be! You're acting like a control freak, and what's that making me learn for my future kids? That I have to yell and shout at them because that's what I heard and saw? That I should teach them to try and do their hardest and when they fail even the tiniest bit I have to punish them?! It's not right!" Camilla screamed at him. Once again, the silence had been broken by her conscience getting the better and making her say what she thought out loud.
._________________________________________________________.
Nothings gonna change the things that you said
And nothings gonna make this right again
Please don't turn your back again
I can't believe it's hard just to talk to you
But you don't understand
'Cause we lost it all
Nothing last forever
I'm sorry I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and we can't go back
I'm sorry I can't be perfect
._________________________________________________________.
For the first time since the funeral, tears fell from her father's eyes. Camilla saw them but couldn't react, she didn't know how too. It's been four years since she had seen her father so open about his emotions. It was hard to deal with. He started to turn down the hall, not saying a word but dismissing the 'discussion' between the both of them. Why did he have to close himself up so suddenly?
"Dad, don't do this to me. Don't walk away because you think you have too! You don't, and you know it. Why do you have to act like this. You just don't understand." Camilla stood suddenly, making herself light-headed. Reaching out a hand to stable her swaying body, her fingertips slide against the slick banister and she fell over. She had tumbled down the staircase, and when she landed at the bottom, she was curled up in the fetal position.
When she had missed the banister, her dad had then started to turn and he saw her form tumbling. Rushing back down the hall, he slid to his knees and pulled her into his lap. He wrapped his arms around his one and only baby girl, though she had grown up too fast... And it was his fault. For the past four years, he had stopped showing signs of fatherly love and stopped being a father figure to her and made her forget about her own life and tried to make her live one he made for her.
"Oh my baby girl." He held her tighter, though not enough to hurt her and rocked back and forth as she closed her eyes. She hadn't broken anything but she would have some bruises. Maybe, at least, she had gotten his attention and maybe, just maybe, she could live her own life again. As that thought slipped through her mind, she wrapped her arms around her dad and made his hold a hug, for the first time since the funeral, she had a true and very real hug from her father.
"I try, baby girl, that's all I can do."
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