To Those Too Wise for Their Age

         ''Such a wise person for her years!''-said the teacher or some random friend of the little girl's mom. Maybe it is not wisdom. How do you know? Perhaps it is trauma, or maybe it is empathy that has been involved during the internal pressure of the circumstances. - I think that now, but who really knows? Sometimes I think about that teenager that does not want to come home, because of all the scandals. The teenager that is afraid to invite friends at home, so they won't see the drinking parent. She was sitting at her table with a bunch of books, paintings, and pictures of her favorite stuff that helped her during the day. Her only problem seems to be her own life, that she is not capable of changing. She is just a teenage girl still. Isn't it silly that parents sometimes do not see their children at all? They see that they are or were at home. But they don't truly know what they like or how their day has been—such a straight-out-of-book sadness. 

There are days when the child feels happy. When that parent isn't at home. Or maybe it was her birthday, I'm not quite sure now. But she invited around 10 friends to her house, had a cake, many games and a whole program to have the best birthday. The parent promised not to drink that day. But it happens every time. Why did the child trust again? I don't think I can actually think of an answer now, but the girl did trust the parent every time. I guess it was just the classical ''she just wanted to believe story''. However, it is not how birthdays work in her family. There is always going to be a drop of alcohol that will ruin every good memory created that evening. The drunk mom that locked herself in the bathroom, screaming and swearing through the door, while her daughter's friends were still in the room next door. Every sound they made, was an irritating signal to the parent. A signal that made her scream ''shut the fuck up, everyone!!''. Just a little child whose birthday was ruined by simply one substance and one person. Maybe not one, sometimes they drink in groups. But the girl had that feeling in her stomach that she had to be strong and just make a game out of this for her friend's sake. She does not even know if any of her friends remember that birthday after so many years... but frankly it does not matter. She remembers. So many crying during the night in not even that big of an apartment and still no one noticed. It seems reasonable to think that it is not the child's mission and obligation to save a parent when they are trying to fall into the deep dark pit where they are going to find the point of no return. But as I remember that teenager did not think about that during the crisis like that, she was not afraid of death, she simply didn't want other people to suffer, she didn't really feel anything, but somehow... at the same time as she didn't feel anything she pretended to be herself, pretended to like things she used to like just to feel like before. Imagine being so desperate to get yourself back when you are not even a completely formed person. It will undoubtedly do something to one's mind. You do not feel a feeling, but so hurt by the fact that it is happening to you. 

Oh... I guess I know that feeling...since it is me. The girl. The girl that cried for her cat and in the shower, cried into the pillow, cried openly in front of others, but no one saw... maybe they looked, but they never saw. She had this memory of something that never really happened: how she sits in a corner of a room and everything around goes black, eating her whole. Sometimes she thinks that that memory is her imagination during the literature class, but she cannot find the text that gave her those ideas. And now it makes me wonder why don't I feel anything about those memories... The thought flow was interrupted by the look I got from my professor. It was just a glance, but it put me back in the present. I guess I will think about this some other time.

Some other time.

Professor's lips were moving quite fast but the sound he was making seemed to not reach me. Sometimes my eyes just stare somewhere and see the whole picture of what is happening in front of me, but no details are staying in my memory, because the mind is wandering somewhere there... somewhere in the past. The second you realize that you see only the big picture of this university classroom, you start looking for details and it just doesn't feel real. The place you are at, the people around you, me. It just feels like it's not mine, like someone is sitting in my chair, having the same face, same voice, same laughter, but not the same eyes. You just sit there and think about the past that doesn't bother you anymore. However, it took something away. After a minute of this kind of thinking my mind wakes up and everything is back to normal again. I'm in a safe space, a safe county, people are smiling and thinking about the things that bother them. Everything just continues. Everything just lives.

''Hey, want to meet tomorrow to study together?'' – the voice next to me said as if it was a period at the end of my thought. I slowly turn my head to my friend and nod, accompanying my nod with a gentle smile.

The thing is that you are not going to think about this feeling you were getting during the long lecture in the next two weeks or even more. But then suddenly, I catch myself looking at my lovely partner playing games on their pc, smiling and wondering how did I get so lucky. The thought is interrupted in a couple of seconds by this weird flow of words and memories. More like a feeling of a tsunami, that crashes everything on its way and leaves the city dim and quiet. How did I get here? How did my life change this way? Why does it feel like I'm still missing something... at night the feeling can visit my head again and just sit there, make me cry for no reason. Are those tears just something that was left by that tsunami in my head or these are the tears of that empty space that makes me feel this way?

So many kids, some many teenagers are getting hurt every day. Sometimes we as a society talk about that problem, but we are not actually thinking about those who survived. How they lost a part of them that they never going to get back. Past traumas before you are even a person with your own views and voice steal a part of you that you never going to get back, you never even knew it existed, but those traumas just leave you without a peace of you, that you cannot truly feel. You just know that it is missing. So maybe because I was losing that peace I got that wisdom the adults were so excited to talk about. I guess now the only option grown-up me has is to live with that mysterious hole inside, just like if I was a child assembling a puzzle where one piece is missing and the thing is never going to be complete. That made me realize that sometimes it is just time to let go of the puzzle... and find a new hobby.