And so she stands there in tears; the droplets of water from her eyes glistening against her cheek from the moonlight above. Shaking from head to toe but not from the bitter cold of the Winter air but from fear, from absolute terror of being alone.
For nearly twenty years I have loved her. When we first met I was 12 years old, but a mere child that didn’t even know what love was. I didn’t know how to control these feelings I had for her because you cannot control what you don’t understand.
I used to watch her from afar in class and day dream what it would be like for us to be together, seeing her talking to all of the other boys, boys that were “better” than me; “prettier” than me. But I was shy, definitely far too shy to talk to her and yet she spoke to me anyway. That first time in the playground, I was sat alone on that bench; being the new kid at school wasn’t easy especially this school.
You see rough schools glorified on TV and you say to yourself that you’re glad you didn’t end up there. For most of these kids it’s not a choice, for me it was.
I had so much promise at a young age, most people aspired to work with the police or be an astronaut but not me, I had a clear path; I wanted to go to a good school, go to a good University, earn a degree in web design. I wanted to make my father proud.
But what you want isn’t always what happens, expelled for violence. Not always violence I caused but violence I was involved with none-the-less. I wasn’t there long before I was thrown out and the worst school in my town was the only one that would take me.
It felt more like a prison sentence than an opportunity. Through the tough exterior I portrayed all I had inside of me was fear, anxiety, I never found it easy to mix well with others. I made one friend quickly who protected me from the others, he had my back; a feeling I had never felt before but just like everyone else I cared about in life he left.
His parents decided it’d be a good time to move away and when he was gone I was alone, on that bench in that playground.
Then she spoke to me Continue reading