She was Beautifully DepressingI’m scared. I am weary. I am unsure. I am whatever word you would substitute for worried as “frick”. I am not worried for my own regard. I am worried for this bright, beautiful, exuberant, young girl that I am seeing slowly c | Teen Ink

She was Beautifully DepressingI’m scared. I am weary. I am unsure. I am whatever word you would substitute for worried as “frick”. I am not worried for my own regard. I am worried for this bright, beautiful, exuberant, young girl that I am seeing slowly c

February 20, 2019
By the_endangered_species BRONZE, Sumter, South Carolina
the_endangered_species BRONZE, Sumter, South Carolina
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"It was beautifully depressing, like a street car named desire"- Brendon Urie


I’m scared. I am weary. I am unsure. I am whatever word you would substitute for worried as “frick”. I am not worried for my own regard. I am worried for this bright, beautiful, exuberant, young girl that I am seeing slowly collapse into her own shell. Is it natural for me to be so protective of a girl I hardly know. To wish to protect her from the travesties of this life. Regardless, I am scared. Scared that she is going to fall into this abyss that she will never be able to crawl out of. She walked into this school a happy, vivacious little girl, and as the days progress I begin to see the light behind her eyes start to flicker and die like the embers of a dying flame. I fear I will be too late. Too late to get her help. Sure there are people here whose job is to council children. But, let’s face it you send a kid to a guidance counselor the suicide risk doubles over night.  I fear that by the time I find her a suitable confident, that it will be too late. Too late to save her from the darkness within. Everyday I see her sitting at the end of the third lunch table, looking utterly defeated. It physically pains me to see her in such agony. The only way I can describe my feelings for her is that they are akin to that of how a mother protecting her child. Everyday I walk up to her, I hug her, I tell her that everything will be fine. I question her as to why she’s not eating, and every time her answer is the same, she can’t. As I am not in a position of authority I cannot force her to eat. While not eating is the only thing I have witnessed, I have a strong suspicion that it gets worse, much worse. From the way her peers treat her it is logical to assume she is being bullied. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to charge over there and beat a four letter word out of them. I also have a sneaking suspicion she is self harming. I accidentally brushed my hand against her for-arm and she flinched as if I was stabbing her in the hand. I wish I could reverse this. Bring her back to the effervescent young I first met. I just want to hold her, protect her from the evil present in this world. But, alas I cannot. My one hope is she finds help is she finds help, before I lose my cub forever.


The author's comments:

That child changed my life. She made me realize I see things others don't see. I care for things others wouldn't spre a second glance. This child made me who I am today. In many ways she is my savior. My savior. My confident. My freind. But most importantly... my cub.  


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