Okay, I wrote this a while ago, and even now, I start to cry.
If I bring tears to your eyes, I know I have done my job.
I remember it as if it were yesterday, the day that you went away. Many nights I have prayed that you would come back to me, to feel what it is like to have you in my arms again. To make you feel safe in my embrace, to see that smile of yours once more. Oh what I would give for that honour. I keep thinking, maybe it was my fault? Maybe I didn’t try hard enough to keep you, but I know it’s not my burden to bare, I know it is not my fault and I don’t want to be selfish. It’s their fault, those people, those children they are what got you, and they’re the ones that made you sad. Mum kept telling me they were only innocent children they didn’t know what they were doing, but I know better, I will not believe her those children knew exactly what they did. They hit you, swore at you, teased you, no they tortured you, just because you were different. It seems the world condemns those who dare to be something better, you were better then them, I know that.
Remember when your dad got sick? That’s when everything all started, but it was not his fault, you know that. Your dad would go wandering and disappear for days on end, pushing your mother to tears. I was there when they found him again, he was alone in an alley somewhere, I held you and said everything was going to be all right and you believed me. When things got really bad you would stay with me. We would build a fortress out of pillows and cushions and you would tell me stories about dragons and princess, stories of a happier place. I always loved your stories. I know it was your escape from things, from reality almost like a dream. At school we’d even play out your stories, we’d fight dragons and rescue the damsels in distress. It would always bring a smile to your face; it was nice to see such a rare sight.
As we got older and into high school no one ever had time for those games anymore. Your dad got even worse and neither your mum nor your dad could work. Your money began to disappear. Sometimes you would have a plain piece of bread as your lunch others you would have nothing. I always shared with you and made sure you never went hungry, unlike the others. That’s when the children started punishing you. A funny thing the word children it is defined as one being innocent. They were not innocent, they were cruel. They called your dad crazy; they labelled you urchin and even beat you up. When you had money they stole it and worst of all when you played in your fantasy world, the only escape you had they would drag you to the floor and step on you screaming ‘Come back to Reality, urchin boy. No one can save you here’. They would keep doing it over and over no matter what I did. Sometimes not even the teachers could stop them. They loved to hurt you; they seemed to get joy from your pain. They were never innocent, they were monsters. After they had a go at you, you would just lie there and sob. I would always hold you and tell you that everything was going to be all right and you would always believe me. But one day you just stopped crying. It was like you had no tear left to shed. The worst part was that you stopped believing me.
It was a Friday, I remember it well. The children of the school were excited because the weekend was almost upon us. Everyone could not wait to finally go home. Everyone except you that was. Today you were different. The day was the same. But there was something about you. Not by the way you spoke, or acted towards me, no by the look in your eye, the way you just sat there staring at the blank wall. Were you day dreaming? I did not know, but it scared me. It was almost if you had just stopped caring. After school we met out the front and I asked you if you wanted to walk home together, you just shook your head and said you wanted to go to the beach. I didn’t think anything of it, you loved the beach, and you often went down there alone to think. Now I wonder what on earth you must have been thinking to yourself, while you walked along the bridge and dipped your toes in the cool sand. Most of all I wonder if you were frightened, or if that too just did not exists in you anymore. When I got home I did what I usually did, I watched TV, did a little homework and talked to mum for a while. It was around seven when we got the call. Mum answered it and I watched her jaw drop and tears form in her eyes. When she finished she sat me down and hugged me tightly. She told me you had ‘fallen’, fallen was the nice word for it. They said that you had ‘fallen’ off the bridge that runs across the river and had drowned once you hit the water. A fisherman had found your cold, lifeless body when it washed up onto the banks. I did not cry, I could not cry. I could only try to imagine what you must of felt, what you must have been thinking when you took your final plunge. Were you frightened when you saw the world coming closer to you or were you relieved? Relived that it was finally all over and they could not hurt you anymore no one could.
I blamed myself for weeks after, maybe even months. I kept saying what if I had tried harder? And what if I had gone with you? But now I realise there was nothing I could do nor anyone to stop the hurt you felt, the pain you suffered. You were the scorned rarity in the world, a special better being. Like the dove amongst all other birds. You were different and because of that you did not belong to a world like this. One that punishes the dove for trying to fly higher then the pigeons. One that dared to dream of better things and far off places. I like to think that when you died it was just like you went to sleep and awoken into a beautiful dream, your dream where dragons fly and princesses need rescuing. You deserve that, your own little world. I always wonder if you miss me, if you’re ever watching me and even if when I take my sleep, I could join you there. But I don’t think I am that special, I’m a pigeon. But maybe, just maybe because I accepted you when no one else would, I could be a little bit more
