Crashing through the corridors of the place that held his high school memories.
Running, running from them, just a rushed step following another hasty one.
Tonight, he’d walk this silent hallway until the scorching tears would stop flowing from his bloodshot eyes. He would trail along, touching the walls with torn fingertips, hands that had never learned to love.
So now, his eyes would say goodbye to everything he never really had. Maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to fool his mind for as long as it would still live and he would imagine he had been happy here.
Because imagination was the only thing he had left. The truth was as cold as a vicious winter breeze, hitting you like a rock when you slip out of your warm and safe bed to enter a new day.
A truth wherein he forgot how he was supposed to smile and why.
How it felt to have friends who’d nudge his shoulder playfully and speak up for him when he lost hiswords. The way a young heart would flutter when finding a tiny love letter in a locker or the surreal feeling of somebody offering him to meet up after school – to hang out, to be friends, to be cool. To be wanted.
All of those things a kid needed to grow, mentally, physically, healthily.
No wonder his heart was almost invisibly pounding inside of his chest. It was still so small and full of fragility.
He pressed himself against the wall that had once fractured several bones in his body. He sat on top of the desk in his classroom, his, that always had an empty seat next to his own. Erasing every memory, replacing every thought.
“I was happy, I was happy.”
But he couldn’t succeed, he just couldn’t bring himself to believe his desperate lies.
He sank down, looking for a softness, a gentleness that would help him to get back on his feet. But there was nothing but the tiles on which thousands of students had strolled, danced, spit, sneaked.
Now, it felt like they were all walking over him, very determined and resentful, wanting to smash the bug on the floor.
He raised his head as his body crumbled under the heavy pressure of invisible feet, and caught his painted reflection in the glass doors of the school entrance.
Was it possible to die when a heart got broken? When thoughts could not be rearranged?
The paint on his face looked smudgy and he knew he would not leave this building anymore tonight. Not as a free soul, not as a loved boy, not as a sane person.
But, although he hadn’t found the smile he longed for, the paint had drawn a determined grimace across his mouth and cheeks earlier, when he had come here, afraid to fail and frightened to break down with a broken expression plastered to his features.
His last attempt to smile before he’d be locked up in new corridors, far, far away from the laughter that had rained down on him, the bruises his home had left, the eyes of bullies and the sanity that had driven him to insanity.
“And he lived happily never after,” his thoughts whispered, when they took him away from the school building and drove him towards the mental institution.
That’s the last thing he ever thought.
Sweet guys and dolls, please be careful when you judge someone, even if he or she acts ‘strange’ or is a ‘loner’. Some kindness and an open heart can mean a lot to someone…Don’t let it come the point of people losing themselves because others had left them all alone in the woods of loneliness. Love & hugs xoxo