A wise man once told me that bright lights will shine for lost souls. I didn’t believe him; I was convinced that I was a ship too far lost for any lighthouse to save. I never thought I’d be so happy to be proven wrong.
I sat alone in my school desk, my hair in my face, my arms crossed over my chest, praying for someone, anyone, to come and talk to me. I was so alone. My parents had just gotten divorced and were now in a custody war for me. I could barely hold it in.
“Mind if I sit here?” a handsome boy with dark, tousled hair and deep eyes asked.
“Uh—um, sure,” I choked out.
He smiled awkwardly and took the seat, “I’m Will.”
“Ali,” I murmured, my eyes fixated on him, taking in every detail. He was a beautiful human being and I couldn’t get over it.
Throughout the class, I couldn’t focus, because this boy was running through my mind instead.
When I got home that day, I was still thinking about him, until I heard my parents arguing in the dining room. I groaned inwardly and went into my room as quietly as I could. It hurt and I was lost, I didn’t know where to go from there.
The next day at school, I wore a big sweatshirt, something to hide in, stay away from the world. The boy sat next to me again, his eyes lingering on my darkened expression before he looked down at the floor and said, “Don’t be sad.”
I looked up, shocked, “What?”
He cleared his throat and said, more confidently, “I said ‘You shouldn’t be sad’. It makes me sad, too.”
“It does.”
He nods, “Yeah, I just can’t stand seeing people sad. Is there anything I can do?”
I just shake my head, “No, you’ve done enough just by saying something.” Tears spring up in my eyes, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I don’t know, maybe sometimes all you really need is for someone to express to you, just once, that you matter.
