Lost boy
A short story
"Oh, hi, I didn't see you there. You're probably wondering why I'm burning my drawings. Well, there is a good reason for that. But, I don't have one. I have a reason, but it's not a good one. Before I tell you that story though, I need to know; have you ever felt lost?"
You look up at the sky and sigh. Strangely, you've never thought about that. Have you?
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you that. You don't have to answer. It's just that, I feel like that a lot. I feel like I don't know how I am, who I want to be and who I should be. Shouldn't you be what makes you happy?"
You nod.
"I thought so. But, that's my problem. Nothing makes me happy. Well, somethings do. But then I feel like I'm not doing good enough and that I need to get better. Then I think that everything that I did do is worthless and horrible. I always feel like I need to do better or else this cloud of anger and resentment will come and blur my vision. To envelope me and never leave me alone. Either way, these emotions control me, they take over my mind and in turn, my body. I am a servant to my emotions and regrets.
"When I think that something is making me feel unhappy or that I'm not doing good enough, I try and find something new. My hunger to prove my worth is insatiable. That's why I'm burning these drawings. I don't think they're good enough and I feel like they are holding me back. But by now you would have thought that I wouldn't trust my emotions."
You look at him. You suddenly look at him in a different way, now that you know more about him. You think to yourself, If he's feeling like this without anyone knowing, who knows what else others could be hiding. You decide that emotions are dangerous. They control you and make you feel things that you don't want to feel.
He looks at you as if he just read your mind.
"I get it. Everyone has secrets, but you can expose all of them. They might not be comfortable with sharing them yet. I'm not sure why I said this. It's really easy to talk about your problems. It's the first step to healing. But it takes much more than that. Healing takes time. Healing means opening up old wounds to cure you of them. Your scars tell your stories. But they always hurt. To be free of your scars is to be free of your past . . . to be free of your pain. Healing means to hurt until you can deal with the pain. Once you can deal with it, you can cope. Then and only then, can you fully heal."
He looks down at the sand. Then he grabs a stick and pokes around at the fire some more.
He turns to you.
"Hey, do you mind handing me those papers?"
You pick up a pile of paper next to you and hand it to him. One of them falls. He adds the rest into the fire. You pick up the one that fell and realize just how realistic it looks.
"You like that one?"
You realize he was also looking at the drawing. You nod.
"Heh. It's ok. I really like that one too. It was one of the few that makes me happy. You can keep it if you want?"
You nod and gladly fold the drawing and put it into your pocket. You then turn to the lake. The setting sun reflects beautiful colors on the water surface and the loons fly away sending gentle ripples along the water. You can hear the crash of the waves on the sand, the crickets chirping from unseen places and the cracks and pops of the fire next to you.
Then, there is another sound.
The sigh of the boy next to you.
"So," you say to him. "Are you healing too then?"
He looks over to you, shocked that you actually said something. Then, he looks to the moon that is rising just over the horizon. Then he takes a deep breath and answers:
"Yes. Just barely. By sharing my problems, I start my long journey to heal. Will you be with me on that journey?"