Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
october 7, 2001
today was speech day in english.
the current unit we were on was "preserving and improving your mental and emotional health" or something equally as stupid sounding as that, so we had been assigned to write and present a speech on what grief was in order for us to practice being vulnerable— as if forcing students to bare their selves to a group of people who they didn't really even know wouldn't potentially create trust issues or worsen the anxiety that comes with opening up. i had considered mentioning mother's passing as an anecdote because that would be the right thing to do, at least, according to the assignment guidelines, but decided against it as i realized i wouldn't physically be able to force the words out in front of the class, not that i would want them to know, anyway. even though it had been five years ago, her death still felt like an raw nerve to me: just thinking about it was like rubbing salt in an open wound. i wasn't scheduled to go today, so i kept my gaze on the sky outside so the feelings wouldn't rise up in my eyes and leak down my cheeks while flashes of words echoed in monotones around me.
my grandfather...lung cancer...family friend...car accident...sister...overdose...father...heart attack...dog...diabetes...mother-
the blue in the sky wobbled as i blinked my eyes furiously—i didn't hear anything, don't cry it's okay i didn't hear anything i didn't didn't didn't didn—and i refused to let my mind linger, focusing hard instead on observing the birds floating on the wistful wind outside, painting beautifully brief blurs of color against the cerulean backdrop.
it was autumn.
the sudden harsh scrape of metal on white speckled linoleum shattered my forced reverie into a million golden red leaves. a boy stood defiantly in front of all the desks, aristocratic countenance too cold and abrasive for the suddenly nauseatingly warm classroom. silence screamed through my ears as i observed him, instantly captivated by the cruel onyx eyes glittering out from under long stygian lashes. i found myself sitting up straighter and leaning forward, already invested in what he was going to say.
'grief?' the icy word tumbled from his merlot stained lips and froze, shattering into crystals of dagger sharp rage on the tile floor. 'you want me to talk about grief?' though the class had been quiet before it was somehow even more silent now.
'none of you understand what grief is, what it's like. grief isn't just fucking about the person that dies. it's also about the living that it kills. grief is the most vicious murderer of them all,' he spat the words out like a bitter, beautiful song.
'and i bet none of you know what that's like. it's one thing to watch someone die in front of you and feel sad-' he paused to look around the room with disdain. 'but to watch grief slowly poison, debilitate, and destroy the living while you sit there—helpless, powerless, utterly useless-'he broke off, hands now clenched at his side in slightly trembling fists. his words sunk into my heart like a knife, making my shoulders hunch forward with the innate understanding that he was a predator and i was nothing but prey.
despite it all, though, i was intrigued. i wanted to run after him, learn all his secrets and everything that happened to him that made him say that.
'anyways what is this? group therapy?' he sneered. 'don't bother, i have nothing i want to share with you.' after sweeping another look around the room with unconcealed contempt in his gaze he stormed out with a sharp and silent whirl, gone as quickly as smoke assimilates into thin air. i stared after him, insides feeling exposed and scraped raw by his blunt words, the memory of the naked pain splashed across his face echoing in my mind like a siren song.
