Guardian Angel

When I was just a young child, the other kids would used to always tease me. It was either my clothes, my hair, or the way I walked. I don't remember having any friends for a very long time. I just remember being very lonely and sad. Very sad for long periods of time. I was not good at talking with people, so I got made fun of. No one was there to stick up for me but myself, and I couldn't do it.

One time, while walking to class, I was "accidentally" tripped to the ground. I was carrying my books with both arms around them as if they were my child. They went flying across the ground when I fell. Some people stepped on them as they walked passed me, jerking their feet violently and ripping pages out of my books. Someone spit on the back of my head, and another person stepped on my fingers when I tried to get up. I had to bandage them for a few weeks until they healed back to normal.

One day in the lunch line, I was waiting to get my food. I liked that day because we were having pizza that day, and I liked pizza. Even if I got made fun of and laughed at, I was happy if we were having pizza. I stood in line with my lunch tray, and waited my turn in line. Someone behind me in line was laughing. I got my pizza, and decided I would treat myself to chocolate milk. Chocolate milk costs a little more, but I wanted to be extra happy today. I was walking to my table that I eat at alone, and someone hit the bottom of my tray with their hand. My food went flying and the milk spilled all over me. I went back to get another, but they were all out. The two kids behind me got all that was left, which was more than they could eat.

In gym class we run around outside usually. I ran with the other girls, and the boys ran with the other boys. The other girls made fun of me because I hadn't developed like they had. They laughed at me when we got in to our gym clothes. I tried not to blush. I don't think I succeeded. Sometimes we did this exercise where we use two long white poles and smash them together with a partner while someone jumps between them in the middle. I didn't like this exercise, because if your partner went too fast or delayed, you would smash your fingers, and it hurt alot. My partner would always be someone who did that, and I didn't like this game because I always ended up bruising my fingers very badly, or causing them to bleed.

I had one friend once in school. It was a girl named Sally. Sally was kind of nice to me, but I could tell she didn't want to be too nice. One day while we were out at gym, someone switched my school clothes with dirty sweatpants and a sweatshirt with something bad written on it. I got in trouble for wearing the shirt, and after that Sally never talked to me again.

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Three dashes. That's what separates the past me from who I am explaining now. Three dashes. Just those three dashes explain how I came to be, and how I exist now. Those three dashes explain the trials I went through and the depression I suffered. They explain my resolve, and struggle to avoid killing myself to end my emotional pain and suffering. Those three dashes embody my self perserverance to continue to live, with hope as the only thing to hold on to. Hope that one day, I might meet a person who is nice to me. I look back, and see I was the kid that everyone picked on to make themselves feel better. There's always a kid like that, and I was that kid. But when I was so young, I didn't know such things, so I needed other ways to survive. And the hope that I would meet someone who liked me was that hope. The hope that a person might actually care about me.

In my freshman year of college I met that person. He was everything that I wanted in a friend. I did not and never did have courage about myself. He had that courage for me, within me. He showed me how to stand up for myself, how to defend myself, and how to love myself. He taught me how to enjoy life, and how to live. He taught me the things which most people take for granted. He taught me so many things about life and how it works, and what one should expect from life. I cherished my life from that moment on, and if I could I would thank him every day for the rest of my life. But I can't. I'm left with one final question I want to ask him, but I can't. I can't ask him why he killed himself.

I don't know the reason. I don't know his personal life. I don't know what events transpired in his life to lead him to such a decision. This person had taught me so much that I didn't know, and taken me so far above my previous heights. How could such a great person take their own life? Even I, who knew nothing about living, decided I would not take my life so long ago. Back when I was teased as a child, I still held on to hope. I never let go of that, despite what ignorance I possessed otherwise. But him...did he not have hope? Did he not have anything to live for? He seemed so wise beyond his years, yet at the same time hopelessly devoid of any real sense of purpose. Perhaps I was so busy accepting his help in trying to fix my life, that I didn't help him with his.

I don't really know what happened to him, or why. I don't even know where he was buried, or I would visit his grave every day if I could to thank him. He was an amazing person to helped me in the hardest part of my life, and for that I am forever grateful. He was, and always will be, my guardian angel.

Even if he didn't believe they exist.