Thursday, 4 November 2010
12:05:16 AM (GMT)
He sits here crying. I hold onto him tight. He pours his heart out to me, letting go
of all his pain. I sit there comforting him, listening to him, wishing he didn't have
to have all of this pain. He tells me he wish he was loved. I tell him I love him,
but he just shakes his head and says, "No, not that kind of love. Love as in someone
who cares for me, who loves me, someone who I will spend the rest of my life with.
That kind of love." I nod, understanding what he means. I silently wish I had it
He continues to spill his heart out as I sit there watching. He repeats how much
everyone's turned their backs on him, how it hurt him so bad. This has been going on
for over a year now. Once, he's tried to kill himself. I stopped him. Told him I'll
be there for him. Ever since, we've had these meetings here in this abandoned hallway
in the school. No one ever came here. He'll tell me how he feels; how he wishes he
had someone who would love him for who he was and what he was. I'd sit there and let
him talk. He needs it. To have someone to talk to, to vent out. He tells me how he
wishes everything was back to normal. That he'd have his friends back, everyone would
speak to him; that his parents wouldn't look at him disgustingly anymore. His parents
wouldn't even speak to him. Not even his brothers or sister came near him.
He sits there, wishing he never came out to everyone. Then his parents would speak to
him and would look at him and smile. They would be proud of him. He doesn't get that
anymore he tells me. That maybe his brothers and sister would look up to him.
He grows silent, his crying stops. He pulls away from me and moves to the opposite
wall. I take a look at him. His eyes are closed, pain etched all over his face. His
knees were pulled up to his chest, his head leaning against them. His light brown
hair lying in his face, covering his closed eyes. His tanned arms wrapped around his
legs. This is his favorite position to sit in I notice, as he does this every time we
meet here. I sit here watching him, pulling my own legs up to my chest. I silently
wonder what he is thinking about. The pain written on his face scares me. It runs
deep. He's never happy anymore. He never smiles, never laughs. He talks to no one but
me. Not even the teachers. He doesn't even answer questions. He only answers to me. I
wish he wasn't like this. i wish he was happy. Something he'll never be it seems.
He opens his eyes and looks at me. I can't help it but gasp. All the pain, sadness,
loneliness rolled up into one and shown in his brown eyes, on his face catches me off
guard. I look into his eyes, he looks back. I want to cry. I don't like seeing him in
pain. He opens his mouth and begins forming words. I listen carefully. He says, "I
want to die." His voice is soft and filled with pain. I feel like screaming at him,
but that would get me nowhere. I tell him no, that that's not what he wants I try to
convince him. Those four words strung in a sentence together terrify me. At that
moment, I take back wanting to know what was on his mind. I start crying and begin to
shake. I whisper over and over again to him that he doesn’t want to die. I keep
trying to tell him that’s not what he wants. I’m crying fully now and shaking
badly. He tells me that’s what he wants. That he’ll never be happy again. I shake
my head and tell him otherwise. I tell him there’s someone out there for him. I
tell him to wait and see. I tell him there’s a nice guy out there, just waiting for
him to come. He tells me he doesn’t know if he can wait any longer. I tell him to
try, beg him to try. I look up into his brown eyes filled with pain. It breaks my
heart knowing he wants to die. I say to him, “Alexander, you don’t mean that.
Please tell me you don’t mean it.” He tells me he wish he could, but he can’t.
I shout out at him, telling him he can.
I cannot stop crying. It hurts me really deeply hearing those four words. I don’t
know what to think, what to do. I wish there was something I could do. I look up into
his face, watching for signs, anything that could help me. I see nothing but pain. I
can’t help but fear it’s too late. That he’s too far gone.
I feel I’ve let Alexander down. I don’t know why I feel this way. He’s only
sixteen. He shouldn’t have to feel this way. He’s giving up, losing the strength
to hold on. I know he can, I feel it. I know there’s someone out there for him.
There had to be.
The bell rings. I get up and help Alexander up. Reaching into my book bag, I grab a
few Kleenex’s, handing one to Alex and keeping one for myself. I give him a hug,
telling him I’ll see him soon.
I watch him walk off, then head to my class; a surprise coming my way…
Last edited: 26 August 2012