Chapter 24: The Forgotten Ones
The girl with turrets,
She can make me laugh like no one else.
She once told me a joke that had me sitting on the floor laughing so hard
I cried.
I had to stop myself from laughing more because I thought I was gonna pee my pants.
She is so funny.
The boy who constantly raked his hands over his skin,
he would leave these red jagged lines going up and down his legs,
Once I sat by him during meal time.
I watched him.
He didn't need to rake his nails up and down his legs while he drew.
He drew the most exsite pictures.
He offered me it,
I took it.
I carry it in my pocket every day.
The boy who abused heroin,
he told me the wisers things on how to heal my heart.
He was so smart.
He was wise.
I supposed from what he did to himself he learned to be wise.
He helped me through everything.
When I couldn't sleep at night the boy who tried to jump off a bridge would sit with me and tell me stories to lull me to sleep.
I missed my mommy, but she wasn't there.
He did this for a month.
For a month he lost sleep in an attempt to help me go to sleep.
The girl who tried to hang herself from the rafters of her church practically lived in the kitchen.
She was always making sweets for us to try
She was always making something.
She said baking was the only thing that kept her sane.
The boy with scars and slit wrists on his body
dried my tears on the nights when I missed my mom and dad and friends.
He would sit with me and let me cry.
He never forced me to tell him what was wrong.
Just waited until I did.
If I didn't that was okay too.
He just let me lean my head on his shoulder and let the tears drip down my face.
When I need a hug I go to the boy with anger issues.
He gives the warmest and most comfortable hugs I have ever had.
He will wrap his oddly long arms around my frame and pull me close.
My head rests in the crook of his neck.
We stand in silence for as long as we need never breaking the hug until both of us pull away.
Every morning on the way to breakfast the girl who has bulimia will walk beside me and compliment me.
Every morning it is genuine.
"You are so pretty."
"You have a nice laugh."
"I like your handwriting."
"You have a nice personality."
"You have nice eyes."
"You have a great smile."
Every morning like clock work.
I once asked her why.
She tells me she wants everyone to feel beautiful.
So they don't do what she did.
She wants them to feel loved.
When I first arrived,
this boy would sit with me every day at meal time.
We never spoke to each other,
We sat there and ate our meals.
I once told him to leave me alone ,
he said no.
That no one should sit alone.
He knew how it felt and didn't want anyone going through that.
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PoetryShe was perfect. Well what everyone else saw was perfect. What they did not see was not so perfect. The depression, the jagged scars on her burning wrists and thighs, the tears she wept at night after the fights, the bruises left on her body by her...
