Personal Narrative

One time, I loved another person. He was, in my eyes, the most beautiful human. I loved him for the way he looked into my eyes and touched my hands and the gentle articulations of his voice. The way he would play the violin with such skill and grace. He was never harsh or angry. I wanted to be with him in the simplest ways. I wanted to be with him at his worst just to help him up again. I wanted to be the last one to say goodnight. I just wanted to be next to him.

When I first got to know him, he was struggling with issues of his own. He trusted me enough to tell me and my heart opened. This was the night our orchestra was going to see The Barber of Seville in Maryborough. I was next to him on the bus and we talked all the way there. I remember this evening as the happiest moment. From this day, we grew closer and closer.

Some nights, when home was the worst place to be, he would text me to take my mind off

I was sitting on the lounge at a friends place, all the adults were doing their group Bible study, and all the other kids were either in their room or not there. I probably had some school work to be doing, but I was in no state to try and concentrate on school. On the group chat, I was talking to people I thought cared but in reality, I was alone. All my “friends”, once they got the drift of what I was thinking, just told me to stop talking about it because it brought up bad memories and negativity to them! Here I was ready to give up on my life, and they just told me to shut up. I had no one to turn to. Being a quiet person, I was never one to dump my feelings on someone else. It was all kept inside, suppressed so no one else would have to feel my pain. I sat there awhile, the only light coming from the kitchen. Sinking deeper into my own mind I had flashbacks of all the good times. Each one was like a dagger to my heart. I wanted to be dead, gone. Even just to disappear for a few days until I felt ok again would’ve been