A little something I had to write.
I hear you
talk when you think I am sleeping. You would sit up in bed and talk to yourself. I wouldn’t
want to disturb you, I wouldn’t want you to stop. You can spend hours talking,
softly and smoothly, about everything that is on your mind. Everything that is
going on in your life, all the stress, heartache and fears that you are having.
All the things you cannot talk about with me, with mum, with Emily. I like to think
that this is your way of telling me. Hoping that I can hear what you say while I
am sleeping, or maybe you secretly hope that I am awake. Maybe you know that I am,
you can sense that I am awake. Or maybe I wake up because you are hoping so hard
I will hear you.
And I do. I
do hear you. And so I know about your stress, your heartaches and your fears. I
know how scared you are to fail everyone around you. I know how hard school is
for you right now. I know how scared you are of never making it through. I know
about that time your heart was crushed into little tiny shards of glass. I also
know that was the day you changed into the wreck that you are now. But you
never talked about it before, you never said a word about what had happened. All
of us noticed how broken you were when you walked through the kitchen door that
day. You never looked at any of us and went straight upstairs to our room. Ever
since that day you were silent.
Yet here
you are, in the middle of the night. Sitting up in our bed in the dark, with
the cold air from the open window against your face. Telling your stories, not
out loud but loud enough for me to hear. Now I am thinking you are telling them
to the wind, hoping it will carry your words away. Far away from you, from
here, so they can’t bother you anymore. So they can’t hurt and taunt you like
they have been doing for these passed months. It is a relieve to hear you speak
again, to hear you say what’s on your mind. Even though it might not be meant
for my ears, I couldn’t be more happy to hear your voice again. I hope the wind
will take your words and bring them far away from you. To a place where they
can be heard and then buried, so they cannot hurt anymore.
