SAVING KYLE: A lost angle

Power of Insecurities

After a month or two had passed, everything seemed okay. My sister started dating other people, and she'd love to put it in our faces. I knew she meant no harm, but I was glad that she was having fun doing it. Me and Kyle never talked about how we felt since that day, but we went back to normal. I told him our friendship was more important then dating, I didn't want to have any more conflicts about it and he agreed.

On an average day we would send each other 5-7 selfies and even some snaps. We loved seeing each other, and we saved every photo. Pretty soon my storage was full, I had 345 photos and videos of Kyle in my library. I cleared other things just so I could get more. Kyle was so beautiful I could not stop staring at his photos, even though he'd always hated them. I would tease him by sending some cute photos of him back to let him know how much I loved him and how beautiful he was to me. He would always get mad, it was adorable. He wasn't the only one though, I hated my face, and I hated taking photos. Before I met Kyle I only had 5 photos of myself, but he got me to take more. I loved him so much my insecurities was for him to decide, and he did the same. I'd always delete the photos after I send it, just so I wouldn't have to see my ugly mug posted in front of me. Although I didn't know why I hated myself so much, but I was more confused why he hated himself. He was the most perfect person I'd have ever seen. Everything was good until puberty rained down on us.

                  Kyle had gotten 2 bumps. It may not seem like the end of all humanity, but for us it was the beginning of the end of our world. At first I didn't see what the big deal was. He had asked me if I would like him if he had bumps. I told him of course I would. I loved him no matter what, but he remembered a time I said if I had bumps I wouldn't go see him. We were the same person, of course he would feel the same way right? Kyle still took pictures, but he would cover parts of his face with anything he could find. I tried to explain to him I loved him anyway, and his bumps didn't change that. For a couple weeks he took my advice. He knew I loved him so much no matter what happened. But soon he started getting more bumps. That officially broke his self esteem right in to a million pieces. The bullies became more visible , and he would cry every night. He said he was happy that we were there , but it didn't really change things. He started getting back into cutting. He would have anxiety attacks almost everyday, and felt he couldn't breath. I felt so helpless. I cried every day begging him to stop. He said he couldn't, he felt to ugly and no one should care about him. The world wasn't kind to him. I didn't know how to make him stop, so I felt compelled to mimic him. For every cut I would do the same. He hated me for it but that was the only way to get him to stop. My life was officially linked to his. Our world was stumbling down really quickly and I didn't know if we would survive. I stopped eating. I lost motivation.

After some time passed we got into an argument about meeting sooner. He told me he was hurting so much, and he was thinking about ending it. My heart dropped. I couldn't think clearly. It was 12am, I could never get to him. I begged my mother if she could help me, but she refused, and said she would call the police if I went. I didn't care, I hated her for getting in my way. I told my sister could we try and we did. We grabbed our brothers bikes and drove down the street. But we didn't think this through. My service wasn't on and I could never get there without directions. I thought my life was over. I couldn't even save the one person I loved most in the world. I rushed back home and explained to him I couldn't do it. But he had already blocked my phone number. I cried so much that night, I thought it was the end. I would replay the time he would tell me everyone in his life makes him want to kill himself, but me and my sister makes him want to live. I officially added myself to the list, because if I am not enough to keep him alive, what am I? I always wondered what changed. I loved him now just as much as I did before. He'd always ask why I cared or loved him. He thought he wasn't worth loving, but it wasn't near close to the truth at all. He just didn't live in a kind world. He always felt alone, and that haunted him every night. He was a stranger in his own home. He didn't know how special he was.

A couple days later I began searching for him. I found him almost instantly, I was so glad. I didn't know what to do without him. He seemed better than before but I knew he was still going through everything . I asked what he have been up to and how was everything. He said he was good and showed a picture of him at school, but I couldn't help to notice his hands. He had cut marks all down the outside of his arm and hands. It was impossible to miss. Could his school, and family just didn't care? It was beyond visible. I was so sick to my stomach. I felt like I was the only one that cared for him. I hated seeing him in this much pain, but I knew that leaving him alone could lead into much more dangerous things. After some time Kyle seemed fine. He promised me he wouldn't cut again, and I was forced to believe him. We tried to build everything back to its original state, but it wasn't easy. My sister slowly moved out the picture. She couldn't handle the anxiety and cutting.. I couldn't give up. We made a promise, and I couldn't dare break it. I promised my heart to him forever and that's how it was. No matter what he did, I still loved him.