Talk to Me

You don't have to be a hero to save the world

I sit on the bathroom floor, cowering before my greatest fears.

It doesn't make you a narcissist to love yourself

I scratch at my face and pull at my hair. Skin and blood builds up beneath my fingernails.

It feels like nothing is easy it'll never be

Tears mix with blood as drips of fuchsia stream down my cheeks.

That's alright, let it out, talk to me

I freeze when I hear the door open... I'd forgotten to lock it.

You don't have to be a prodigy to be unique

I look down, hiding behind my brown sheet of hair, and feel soft hands closing around my own.

You don't have to know what to say or what to think

A deep, calming voice blesses my eardrums and I meet eyes with orbs of blue. "It's okay."

You don't have to be anybody you can never be

The boy reaches over me and detaches a paper towel from the dispenser above my head.

That's alright, let it out, talk to me

He smiles kindly at me as he brings the towel to my face, dabbing at the blood and tears. I wonder if he's an angel, before I remember that I don't believe in Heaven.

Anxiety tossing turning in your sleep

I don't mean to lean into his touch, but it's the first safe thing I've witnessed in years. 

Even if you run away you still see them in your dreams

I freeze, and the worry is obvious on his eyes. I can never escape. 

It's so dark tonight but you'll survive certainly

I wake up in the nurse's office. There's a hand holding mine. My vision is blurry. 

It's alright, come inside, and talk to me

I look up slowly, seeing a smile, and I know who's sitting next to me. The corners of his lips tug up into a smirk. "I thought I lost you for a second there."

We can talk here on the floor

Before I know what I'm doing, my lips curl at the edges to match his own. I look up into his eyes and see a hopeful spark. 

On the phone, if you prefer

I look over at the clock, my vision cleared. I sit up with a start when I see the time: 4:30pm. 

I'll be here until you're okay

I watched him shake his head in my peripheral vision, "Don't worry, I had the nurse call your parents."

Let your words release your pain

I nod, but my hands start to shake nonetheless. A series of images flash behind my eyelids. My mother's disapproving glare... my dad's hands clamped painfully around my wrists. 

You and I will share the weight

I feel a gentle hand on my bloodied cheek, "Sorry," the boy's calming voice says, "Am I hurting you?" I shake my head and he turns it slowly so that I'm facing him. "What's wrong," he asks, "You're shaking."

Growing stronger day by day

When I don't reply, he bites his lip. "Is it your parents?", he asks quietly. I nod slightly, too scared to make a more dramatic motion. 

It's so dark outside tonight

He nods back at me and I look into his eyes... he doesn't seem to be judging me. 

Build a fire warm and bright

When my parents finally arrive at the school to pick me up after work, my dad's face is tinted bright red and my mom's expression is even more stern than usual. I almost see protectiveness in the boy's eyes as I walk away with them, like he wants to take me away from the danger I face. 

And the wind it howls and bites

'But he doesn't even know me...', I think as I follow my parents to our car. By the end of the day, all the warmth and safety I felt with the unnamed boy is gone. 

Bite it back with all your might

The next day, I see the boy in the hallway and turn away from him, letting my hair hide my bruised, scabbed cheeks from his point of view. I don't get far, though, before I feel a gentle, now-familiar hand taking hold of my own. 

Anxiety tossing turning in your sleep

I turn to him, my eyes wide with uncertainty. His smile is small and sweet. 

Even if you run away you still see them in your dreams

He reaches up to my face and brushes the cascade of brown hair away from it, unveiling my tragedy. 

It's so dark tonight

His face falls and I realize, after a moment, that he's crying. 

It looks nice, fall asleep

I open my mouth silently, trying to formulate what to say. I haven't spoken in months, but I would read him a novel aloud if it dried those heart-shattering tears. 

It's alright, come inside, and talk to me

"It's okay," I say, voice raspy from disuse, "I'm okay." He stops crying, expression almost confused for a moment before a wonderful smile blooms upon his lips. "Okay," he says quietly before squeezing my hand slightly, "Let's get to class."