Do you remember when I was a messed-up seventh grader, and you were a slightly less messed up seventh-grader, and we were trying to figure out how people worked, and how society worked, and how the universe worked? We wrote things about ourselves, and people, and pain, and we sent them to each other and tried to find answers. We talked endlessly, and we thought things that 12-year olds should never have to think, things that no one should ever have to think. And I thought, then, that we had walked the worst paths, and been to the darkest places of the human soul, and then come back to normality.
And maybe I scared you with my constant talk of darkness, because I really did think I had discovered true pain. I still don’t know what I was feeling at that time. It could have been that I just felt trapped, and turned to dark thoughts as a way out, or it could have been that I had actually touched lightly upon the dark edges of humanity. All I know is, what brought me back to humanity was all that time I spent trying to explain to you what was happening in my head, despite not understanding it myself. I’ve told you this before, but you have a rare ability to listen, and I think that is what made it possible for me to find my way back to myself.
I should have told you a long time ago: I’m sorry I put you through all that. It wasn’t kind or fair, but you stayed anyway and proved yourself a braver and better friend than anyone has the right to ask for. In light of that, I know I shouldn’t keep secrets from you. But I also know I should protect you however I can, so now I don’t know what to do. Is it worse to tell you tell you and make you worried and scared, or to stay silent and in doing so break the implicit tenant of friendship which requires me not to keep big, important things from you?
I think what I’m trying to say is, it’s back. The darkness is back. Either that or its here for the first time, but either way, I’m closer to it that I ever have been. I still don’t know true pain, I still haven’t sunk to the deepest places that a human soul can go, but I get closer every day. I have cuts all over myself from trying to keep the darkness at bay, and meanwhile no one knows about it because you, the only true listener I’ve ever known, are at another school living a completely different life.
I shouldn’t—I can’t—tell you this one last hard truth, but I wish so badly that I could. I wish we were back in seventh grade again. Seventh grade, when we could talk every day at recess about the same things and never get bored. Seventh grade, when the mysteries of the universe were ours to ponder and unravel, even if we never actually got anywhere. Seventh grade, when I never held anything in my head, because you were there to listen to everything. It was dark, and it was difficult, but it was better than where I am now, when all of this goes unsaid. Forever.

PseudonymousPerson PseudonymousPerson
13-15, F
Jan 13, 2013