T W O
"Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple."
- Dr. Seuss
“You don’t need to tell me, but sometimes it helps.“
She slowly says.
“I don’t know what happened to you and why you’re so upset, but I really want to help you. Yes, I am a stranger. Yes, you don’t know me, but a long time ago I promised myself that I would help whenever I’m able to. And you look like you could use some company.”
She continues and smiles at me. It’s just a small smile, but I know that it’s a real one.
And I run my hand through my curls and look at her again. I have to admit that it’s very kind of her to stay her with me, but it’s also kind of stupid. I’m a stranger. Maybe I just tricked her and want to do some crazy stuff with her, but she simply doesn’t care. She’s just sitting there, petting the dog, that isn’t even hers and waits for me to say something. And for some reason she fascinates me and that doesn’t really happen usually.
“I’ll stay right here. I don’t care if you talk to me or not. I will stay here. I’m here for you whenever you need to talk.”
She says and nods her head. Why isn’t she afraid of me? Why does she care?
I frown a little and lay my hands down on my legs; I feel the need of hiding my scars from her. I don’t want her to ask questions about me cutting myself.
My eyes are following her movements as she runs her hand through her hair and puts it back on the little dog. Her light brown eyes never leaving me and her lips slightly smiling at me. She seems to be so calm and at the same time so full of life.
She adds and her smile grows a little bigger and I know that she really wants to help me. I don’t know her but I already know that she’s a good person, but when you’re used to keeping everything to yourself, it’s hard to talk to others. You’re just so used to be locked in your own mind that you forget how it is when someone else really cares about you. You’re not able to understand why anyone else would care about you because you spend months or even years telling yourself that you’re nothing and that you don’t deserve someone who cares, because you’re just so messed up.
“Why do you care?”
I finally say and her face lights even more up. And it seems like I am the one who’s helping her. Like she is the one that is in need of somebody talking to her.
“As I said I want to help whenever and wherever I’m able to.”
“Yeah, but why?”
And for a moment she freezes and just looks at me and it seems like my words hurt her, but I can’t tell why because in my opinion I said nothing that could hurt her. But on the other hand I never was good with words and I always ended up hurting other people. I just wasn’t able to keep others around and to .. well to be a good person. I would always hurt someone. I am a horrible person and I hate myself for that.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“
“No, no. Don’t worry.” She interrupts me and sighs slightly. “My mother died 2 years ago. I was 18 and it was like she took a part of me with here. She had cancer and I knew that she would be gone pretty soon. There was no hope and the doctors said that I should be prepared for the worst, but when someone leaves you, just disappears, there’s nothing you can do. You can’t prepare yourself for loosing someone. That’s just not possible. So when she left it kind of felt like a truck hit me.” She nods her head and for the first time she takes her eyes off of me. “I just sat next to her, her hand in my hands and I couldn’t say anything. I stayed there for hours and I just couldn’t move. My dad convinced the doctors to let me stay at her side but after some time they needed the room for someone else and they removed my hands from hers and that was the moment I freaked out.”
She laughs lightly and looks at me again.
“I called them names and I was so pissed and I didn’t care that I embarrassed my dad in front of everyone. I was just so selfish and I spend the next days in my room, lost in self-pity and my dad used to bring me food and everything but one day he just didn’t come to my room and I was so angry that I just got out and I found him in the bedroom of my parents. He was holding my mom’s favorite dress and cried. I never saw him like that before and that was the moment I recognized that I should stop acting so selfish. I wasn’t the only one that had lost someone. And in that moment I promised myself to never be that selfish again and to just help whenever I’m able to. And I will never let anyone stay sad when I’m able to change that.”
I just utter and feel like the sadness is flooding my body. She’s been through so much and even though she’s able to laugh and smile and I never really lost someone and I’m all this fucked up. I’m such a mess and she’s this fluffy ball full of happiness. That’s not fair, why can’t I just appreciate the fact that I have a good life? Why do I have to question every move I make? Why am I so selfish? I’m just so stupid and I hate myself for not being able to see the good in things. I hate myself for being the person I am, but the most I hate myself for hating myself.
“No, not ow. It’s okay.” She says and smiles. “I get along with it.”
I slightly nod and run my hand through my hair again.
I want her to leave. Right now, because it feels like I have to share my story with her now that she told me hers but I don’t want to. She would just say that I’m selfish. She would laugh about me. I’m pathetic and I know that and I also know that this is what she thinks about me. Everybody does but its one thing if people just think something about you and another when they really say it to you.
“Tell me about you.”
She says still smiling at me.
And I would really like to wash the smile off of her face. She shouldn’t be smiling. She should be crying or something like that. She shouldn’t be happy. She should be sad. So incredible sad.
I take a deep breath and bite my lower lip.
“Just some facts about you.”
She says in a soft voice and starts petting Sam again.
“I’m Harry.” My voice sounds so raspy. “I’m 20 years old and I’m kind of a depressed mess.” I laugh and try to be funny but I know that you can’t say this without sounding serious. And I don’t know why I’m telling her this. Maybe this just shows even more how fucked up I actually am. I’m not even able to shut up. I’m just … ugh. Horrible. A wreck. A disaster. A mess. I’m just too fucked up to start a normal conversation. No matter what I do, I fail.
“Hello Harry. As I already told you I’m Hazel, I'm 20 years old, just like you and I’m going to help you step out of your depression.”
“She really said that?” my therapist looks at me in surprise. He doesn’t even take notes anymore. And I feel like I’m telling him this whole story just to entertain him and I’m not sure if I like this idea.
“Yes, she did. I didn't really believe her, but she said it. I would never lie about this.”
“But she didn’t even know you, right?”
“She was pretty special, wasn’t she?”
“She’s still special. Always will be.”
I will not go on and write about the first time they've met, so when you read the next chapter and you're wondering why they are on another place and some things are different. Don't worry. I don't want this story to be that long, so I will not write every little thing that happens. :) x