Floating on Daydreams

Survivor

To the boy who gets beaten up behind a tree in the schoolyard everyday

This is for you.

I can offer no consolation or solution.

But I have been there too.

I was you. Well, I was smaller. And female. But other than that, we’re the same.

I know the pain you are feeling.

I used to cup it in my hands until I was too weak to hold it. I used to let it wash away in a whirlpool of salty red water.

I wish I could help.

I remember the primal fear of being hunted running through my veins constantly.

Running faster than cars, praying you won’t make a sound, lest they might hear you and pounce.

Keeping your head lowered, avoiding eye contact with the people you love, because eyes are the windows to the soul, and your soul is no longer whole.

You feel like damaged goods, like dying trees, like tainted flesh.

I wish I could help.

At night, you fight other monsters.

You’ve started to sleep with your face in your pillow, so that no one can hear the stifled screams that sleep commissions to help you release the unadulterated terror you feel when you are awake.

Your smile used to look like the crescent moon. Now it is the twitch of a muscle, nothing more, because you know that if they see you smiling, they will wipe it off your face with cuts and bruises.

You write suicide notes every day, but you never follow through, because in your heart, you know that you are not at fault. They are.

You just don’t understand--why you?

I wish I could help.

I wish I could help you see that you are worth so much, that you bring so much joy and laughter to the world with your quiet sense of humour and your love for your little brother. I wish I could help you love yourself again, so that you don't lose yourself to cynicism, because you have too much love in your heart to allow your soul to cross over to the realm of skeptical depression. 

I watch as you lose your faith in the fact that one day, things will get better.

I stand behind you as you slit your wrists for the first time, sobbing quietly, your breath fogging up the mirror.

I sit next to you as you order your sixth shot of tequila with a fake ID and a drunken hiccup.

I walk with you while you’re finishing your third cigarette in half an hour, trying to smoke out the emptiness that has built a seemingly permanent residence inside you.

I stand by helplessly as you get hurt again and again and again, eventually more by yourself than by them.

I smile gently when an acquaintance of yours from school finally sees what they are doing to you and tells the principal in a haze of frenzied horror. You are safe from them now.

The acquaintance wants to help you feel better again, but you won’t let her. You cannot bring yourself to trust another person.

I watch as she falls irreversibly, irrevocably, intentionally in love with you. You don’t believe her when she tells you, and you refuse to admit that you feel the same, even though every time you hear her laugh, your lips twitch; so close.

She takes care of you, and I know that you want to take care of her in return, but you refuse to acknowledge that the clipped wings that carry your heart have healed and are straining to soar against your will.

I wish I could help.

You sigh softly before falling asleep, leaning against her shoulder. You sleep undisturbed for the first time in over a year.

When you wake up, she is there, and she is beautiful. You start to believe that even though angels do not exist, maybe humans do. She is everything to you, and you would not have it any other way.      So you smile your crescent moon smile and watch her eyes light up as you both breathe softly and hold each other tight, tethering each other to the ground with hope and love.

You say those three magic words and your heart takes flight, wings fluttering in the light wind that blows bidding me farewell as I leave. You no longer need me to share your pain or your joy; you have a real companion. 

I wish I could be like you are now.