A More Personal Approach

Innocence: A Short Story

I met and knew him for ten months but that was enough. No hellos, no goodbyes, just simple, in-class interactions.
In those months I witnessed true innocence and the destruction of it. How he expressed and then hid his childish nature. On and off, on and off, until he seemed altogether lost.
By the end of ten months he had forgotten me. He had lost his innocence.
Except he hadn't.
It turned out he had everything figured out and it was me who could not figure out my life.
In my loss of innocence I had tried to push his own nature upon him. I had taken the sixty minutes I saw of him each day into too much consideration and painted a picture of him that wasn't real.
In him I had seen one glimpse of an inner child and I remembered how my inner child had died. I remembered how much I had loathed the death of my innocence. I remembered, I remembered it all.
And so I had latched on to his innocence in a desperate attempt to appease the storm within. Then maybe I should let the facade continue. Maybe in this way I can pretend that he was lost and there are other innocents for me to latch upon.
That is what I have done and will continue to do. This is the only way to keep going.
I must believe he is no longer innocent; he is one of them, one of those faceless beings in the crowd now. But I recognize him. And I remember him. If only that were enough...

This is the first time I've ever written a short story so I hope it makes sense. All the same, enjoy!
~fatsotheawesome🕊