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Anything…
I once read that it helped people in distress. It helped take away some of their agony, their grief, their suffering. It was the body’s natural way of finding stability, finding comfort, finding hope.
It shattered my heart.
She cried harder.
I had never seen someone sob like that before. Having her tangibly breaking down in my arms was almost too much to bear.
I felt so fucking helpless.
Her beautiful face was filled with so much despair and sadness that it caused a physical reaction from me. The ache that I felt in my heart was so foreign and unfamiliar. It was beyond crippling.
I was at a loss.
At that moment I hated her father for her.
I pulled the hair away from her face. She finally looked up at me with a huge hollow vacancy in her eyes. It chipped at my heart a little more. There was nothing left of the strong girl I had known for the last several months. I didn’t recognize the person sitting before me.
There was so much I wanted to say, wanted to do.
I wanted to do everything, but I felt as though I could do nothing. She was hurting in a way I never knew was possible. It cut me deep within my core, a place I hadn’t realized existed inside me. She was trapped inside her own head, held captive within the memories that she desperately tried to forget. I wanted to make her laugh. I’d kill to see her smile, knowing that in the end it wouldn’t matter. She’d let me see a piece of her that she had never shown anyone. The warm light of her innocence was gone, bleeding all over me and I didn’t know how to get it back.
Watching someone I cared about suffer wasn’t just painful, it was crippling. It took everything out of me. My own body felt unfamiliar with all the sensations she was causing. I never understood the concept of someone else’s pain, the way they feel, the harbored damage of one day that could change everything for them. How life might change with a few words, a few seconds, a few moments in time that you wanted to forever change but would never be able to get back.
You would never understand, unless you saw it. It would kill you more than you would ever expect, more than you could ever prepare for.
How was it possible to feel that connected to another person? How was it possible to feel almost everything they’re going through? But not once experiencing it first hand.
You’re just hurting because they are.
I learned right then and there that the hardest part of watching someone you cared about go through turmoil was how helpless love could make you feel.
Everyone suffers. Everyone goes through shit. At times it’s worse than others. At times you feel broken beyond repair, but what I took from that day, from that second, from that moment, was that we now formed a connection and as selfish as that sounds.
I was happy.
I wanted that with her.
And I knew that at sixteen-years-old.
“Baby, shhh… look at me.” I pressed her hand firmer against my chest.
“Feel my heart. Feel all of me. Do you understand? Can you do that for me?”
She absentmindedly shrugged.
“No, darlin. Feel. Me,” I urged, placing my own hand over her heart. It was beating fast and hard with each passing second with each passing moment.
“Feel me…” I repeated, pushing both our hands into one another’s hearts.
Her eyes widened in recognition with an intensity I had never seen before. A gleam in her eyes that needed to break through all the sadness and despair, all the things that ate away at her. Everything she couldn’t change but desperately wanted to.
The memories that made her who she was.
The loneliness.
“Listen to me. I will only say this once.”
