Thursday, 6 December 2012

To the boy in the picture...

Yesterday, for the first time in perhaps my entire life, I looked at a photo of myself, age 15. It was an incredibly emotional experience. Last night, in an effort to understand the emotions this experience evoked, I wrote this:

To the boy in the picture,

This morning, for possibly the first time ever, I looked into your eyes.

What I saw there ripped off a giant scab and left my soul bleeding a river of pain. It shocked, saddened and angered me.

Relax, don't be afraid!

This time, I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at all the people who had looked into those eyes before me and saw nothing wrong. I am furious at the the people who saw the hurt in your eyes and turned their backs, deciding that it would be too much effort to determine the cause of your suffering and do something about it.

Social workers
Friends' parents
The fucking clerk in the fucking corner store!!

But no one saw.
No one ever asked.
No one gave a shit.
Not one.

Looking into your eyes, my soul remembers your pain. It is a raw ache that have been buried, numbed with drugs and denied for the sake of survival for so long that I had forgotten its intensity. Now, the memory of it overpowers my senses. My heart can feel nothing other than your overwhelming loneliness. My eyes can't focus and your deafening scream of agony drowns out every other sound.

The scream that has been silenced for too long. The scream you had carved into your body because you could no longer keep it inside.

I feel only your terror.

I can't breathe.

Scream, young ---! Scream until you cannot scream any more!! Perhaps it will finally bring relief.

Today, I cried a tiny portion of the tears you never got to cry. I felt a tiny portion of the hurt you could never admit to feeling. I understood for the first time in many years how you could attack a man who had a gun, with only a knife. It wasn't courage, stupidity or desperation. I remember how you had hoped that the bullet would penetrate deep into your brain and shatter the horrors that represented the only life you had ever known.

It was a suicide attempt as much as it was murder.

Suicide by psychopath...

Where did the instinct that saved you come from?


  1. Hey Gecko,
    I'm happy to know that you found him. Must be difficult for you seeing him so lonely and in fears. Yeah, anger is good and comes naturally when we sense such huge injustice and insensitivity. You posted good question: where on earth were all those adults that used to act like moral verticals from time to time when that boy needed support and couple of warm words?
    I'm sorry that you were so lonely boy, left aside like forgotten. There is no painful feeling as to be child and left alone by others. Please give your hand to that boy, give him warm hug, he was lonely and scared for so long


    Igor (aka Pero)

    1. Thank you my friend. I will definitely give that poor boy a warm hug. It's the least he deserves after all these years...

  2. it is a good thing no one is here at school but me - because i am sobbing and moaning -

    with you
    for you
    for me, too

    this was an incredibly brave thing you did.
    may it advance your healing by leaps and bounds!


    1. Don't cry for me any more, Lee. I am finally at peace with myself. I am now ready to feel the pain I couldn't handle as a kid, and in doing so, to move past it and on towards a life where I can thrive, rather than just survive.


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