(no subject)
He sits silently listening to lessons,
he writes the words that he needs to learn,
not only can he not get past them,
they haunt him deeply.
The more he learns about theories,
the less he knows about personality.
The less he knows about himself.
We are here to learn about ourselves are we not? he asks me.
I say that we are to create an adventure for ourselves,
we are here to never stop learning about ourselves or the people around us, to not forget where we came from and how that has made us who we are today. Take love in the people that love and respect you. Make sure to always love yourself.
What if its to hard to love your self he asks.
then your adventure is far from over, your adventure has just begun.
He sits and contemplates this, he has heard these words before and for short periods of time, this is how he lives his life. He says he likes himself, says he is happy with who he is, believes it, lives it. Then a thought will creep into his head, a simple question: Why?
We sit in his room, with music playing in the background, loud enough that we can mouth the words, but quiet enough that we can talk.
Why if I have heard these words from the time I was little until now, can I not live them everyday, of every week of every year?
because life would be boring I answer, we would have all the answers to life, and no one does.
We are lying on the floor, on our backs, tapping the wall with our feet to the music.
What happens if when I'm old and I still have not found happiness within myself?
I don't know how to answer that.
Silence, the music stops, he gets up, puts on another record.
He wants answers, I can see it in his face every time I look at him.
It has taken him a while to be able for him to ask these questions out loud.
I have seen him cry without tears.
I have felt him shake when has been so scared to face the world.
What did you do when you felt her die? He asks.
I'm not sure she was ever really alive, is what I would like to answer, but I can't tell him this, this isn't what I believe.
I cried I told him,
I tell him that even now there are days that I cry when I hear her name. I feel sick to think if she were to ever come back.
Why do you cry? He wants to know, he needs to know.
This time I sit in silence
How do I answer what I have not asked myself.
He sits up, he face is different now, he looks older.
There is still a question on his face, there is something else that he needs an answer to, if not an answer, then a direction.
I don't ask him what it is he wants to know.
I don't think he knows what the question is.
He walks over to the corner of his room
Opens a drawer and hands me a picture.
It's him
It's her.
I want to tell him that I'm scared for him.
I want to tell him that what his life has done for me, and that I only wish he doesn't have to live through any of this pain, and that I will be there for him.
That he is loved, will always have a place with me.
But when I look in his eyes, he starts to fade away.