Wandering Thoughts

We don't love each other enough.

We don't appreciate what we have enough.

I once knew an innocent boy who was diseased by the mistakes others made and has been tortured ever since. I want, with everything in me, to protect and help that innocent child who was robbed of a family. A childhood. A friend. His soul was so caring and his mind so sweet, yet the world was so mean to him. I thought of him as my child, even though he was older than me by sixteen months. Was it the abuse from his- our- mother; was it the constant stress and anxiety we were imprisoned to; was it the time he went unwatched and drank a bottle of poison; or was it merely genetics? These questions I've calculated in my mind a hundred times. I suppose it was a little bit of everything that caused the nerves surounding his brain to seize out, to take him to another world where he was scared and alone. He was robbed of his own mind. I was taken from that boy when I was ten years old.

Despite being robbed of so many aspects of a childs' life, he seemed to indulge himself in happiness in any way he could. His laugh was contagious and his smile was pure. He tried so hard to make everyone around him happy, and all they did was beat him down. People in school refused to understand his condition, and severly bullied him. I would protect him everyway I could, but how's a little fourth-grader gonna stop a big-ole fifth grader from pounding on her brother? His eating never stopped. He wouldn't even taste the food, he would just force as much as he possibly could, expanding his stomach to new lengths every time. It was almost as though he were trying to fill some part of himself that was missing. His weight caused him to be bullied even more.

We don't love each other enough.

We don't appreciate what we have enough.

I constantly hear people in my school at my age, the big fifteen, complaining about what cars their parents were buying them for their birthday.

I hear kids my age talk about how much their parents hate them because they won't let them go out on a Friday night when they have SAT prep early the next day.

I can't even explain to you how much I'd love to just hear my moms voice telling me she cares about me. Or to tell me she's okay, and she's coming home to me. Or just to look at her and see how we resemble each other. Or to feel her hand holding mine.

Yet, other kids my age go home to a loving and able family, and come back complaining about what their mom made for dinner, or that their dad didn't buy them the newest IPhone, and instead went with a more price-reasonable/ older version.

Please, go home today and tell your parents you love them. That your proud of them. That you appreciate what they do for you. Don't take what you have for granted, because one day none of it will be there. Love each other unconditionally, without hesitation and without doubt. Take time to appreciate what you have instead of dwelling on what you don't.

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