Dear Sue,
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
I want to be there. I wish I could be there. You have no idea how you helped me, I just wanted to let you know that. None of that time could ever be consodered a waste, and every word spoken valuable beyond any monetary item.
You saw a girl who was lonely. You saw a girl in need of a parental figure. You saw a girl, thrown into maturity. You saw a girl who was different from her peers. You saw a girl in a tough situation. You saw a girl on the edge. You saw a girl with unyielding sadness. You saw a girl with no one to confide in. You saw a girl who had no one to trust. You saw a girl.
I wish I had some sort of object of you; an item that I can look at so that fond memories would fill my head. Something to concentrate on so I could remember your words, your image. It's periods of time in my life, such as this one, that I wish I had a physical reminder of you. Some nights, when it's perfectly dark and quiet, I close my eyes tightly as possible and think of what you would suggest for my life right now.
I loved our articulate conversations, and our childish jokes. I loved that no matter what class I was in, I could just leave. I loved that you accepted my adultness, but allowed my innocence. I loved the essential fact of the matter: you were the only one I could turn to.
When I look back on my life I whole heartedly regret not seeing you again. Not looking you up and asking you to meet me for lunch or coffee. I feel terrible that when I heard what was going on in your life I didn't rise to the challenge of becoming your counsellor.
There's no one like you. When I entered highschool I met with the woman you recommended, and I hated her. She wasn't you. She didn't understand the situation. She didn't understand me. She didn't realise that sometimes there's nothing wrong but that a person just needs to talk. You payed attention to me, no matter how boring or irratating I was; she ate while we talked, the food shooting out of her mouth as she spoke hordes of nonsense at me. She hadn't the heart to do what you did.
When you found out, did you stop helping others? No one would blame you if you became selfish. I surely wouldn't hold it against you. Ever. Did you pretend nothing was happening? Did you even acknowledge your own feelings, for a moment? Did you think back to our time and realise the irony of your situation? What were the final moments like? Did you shy away from the world or embrace it fully and totally? If my knowledge of you is correct, then you embraced it for all its glory.
I'm trying so hard to think of what you would say to me at this moment, but everytime I picture you, your mouth opens and your voice is muted. Your smile is blurred out. You are forever in a white buttoned up shirt that just a little too big for you. You just seem to fade into the background of the room. And the room, that is just as forgotten as your picture. I can see the sickly yellow paint, but I can't see the black paint that, if memory serves correctly, was splatted on the walls. Do you remember a window? I have a distinct feeling there was a window, but every vision seems to have it bricked over. I'm ashamed that I can't see anything.
I hope this finds you, somewhere. I hope you know that you've touched my heart and mind in a way no one else has or ever will. I hope you know how much I appreciated everything you did for me.
Goodbye.
I want to be there. I wish I could be there. You have no idea how you helped me, I just wanted to let you know that. None of that time could ever be consodered a waste, and every word spoken valuable beyond any monetary item.
You saw a girl who was lonely. You saw a girl in need of a parental figure. You saw a girl, thrown into maturity. You saw a girl who was different from her peers. You saw a girl in a tough situation. You saw a girl on the edge. You saw a girl with unyielding sadness. You saw a girl with no one to confide in. You saw a girl who had no one to trust. You saw a girl.
I wish I had some sort of object of you; an item that I can look at so that fond memories would fill my head. Something to concentrate on so I could remember your words, your image. It's periods of time in my life, such as this one, that I wish I had a physical reminder of you. Some nights, when it's perfectly dark and quiet, I close my eyes tightly as possible and think of what you would suggest for my life right now.
I loved our articulate conversations, and our childish jokes. I loved that no matter what class I was in, I could just leave. I loved that you accepted my adultness, but allowed my innocence. I loved the essential fact of the matter: you were the only one I could turn to.
When I look back on my life I whole heartedly regret not seeing you again. Not looking you up and asking you to meet me for lunch or coffee. I feel terrible that when I heard what was going on in your life I didn't rise to the challenge of becoming your counsellor.
There's no one like you. When I entered highschool I met with the woman you recommended, and I hated her. She wasn't you. She didn't understand the situation. She didn't understand me. She didn't realise that sometimes there's nothing wrong but that a person just needs to talk. You payed attention to me, no matter how boring or irratating I was; she ate while we talked, the food shooting out of her mouth as she spoke hordes of nonsense at me. She hadn't the heart to do what you did.
When you found out, did you stop helping others? No one would blame you if you became selfish. I surely wouldn't hold it against you. Ever. Did you pretend nothing was happening? Did you even acknowledge your own feelings, for a moment? Did you think back to our time and realise the irony of your situation? What were the final moments like? Did you shy away from the world or embrace it fully and totally? If my knowledge of you is correct, then you embraced it for all its glory.
I'm trying so hard to think of what you would say to me at this moment, but everytime I picture you, your mouth opens and your voice is muted. Your smile is blurred out. You are forever in a white buttoned up shirt that just a little too big for you. You just seem to fade into the background of the room. And the room, that is just as forgotten as your picture. I can see the sickly yellow paint, but I can't see the black paint that, if memory serves correctly, was splatted on the walls. Do you remember a window? I have a distinct feeling there was a window, but every vision seems to have it bricked over. I'm ashamed that I can't see anything.
I hope this finds you, somewhere. I hope you know that you've touched my heart and mind in a way no one else has or ever will. I hope you know how much I appreciated everything you did for me.
Goodbye.