This is a work of fiction, and nothing more.

I once knew a boy, he was never anything special really. No one ever talked about him, no one picked on him, but no one ever really knew him either.

A quiet kid.

I wouldn’t even say he was a sad kid.

But of course this I don’t know, being that I don’t know him. I didn’t know him, but notice him, yeah I did that. He had this way about him that was always making me watch him. Like I said, nothing special, but something elegant. As if there was a story to tell, but he was too young to tell it, or we were too young to listen.

Come to think about it maybe his silence was all he had, maybe he thought if he was quiet someone would ask him something. But we never did, instead he played alone on the playground, sat alone at lunch, walked home with no one. 

Eventually we grew up, he met people that I guess he felt he fit in with. I still noticed him, every day, we even talked a few times come middle school and high school. Not friends, but we spent some time together.

I remember one random day I asked that boy to walk home with me. I only did it because I knew we walked the same route, so why the hell not. We didn’t go home though, instead to this little pond no one ever went to. He was pleasantly surprised I knew the place, I remember because it was the first time I’d ever seen him smile. He had a pretty smile.

We sat on a log, and put our feet in the warm water. He talked to me about music, and the world. He talked to me about the beauty in nothing, and the ugly in everything else. I didn’t say a whole lot, he did enough talking for the both of us. 

He told me he wasn’t a good person, he told me he’d done bad things.

At that moment I guess I should have been scared, I should have told him I had to be home before my parents started to worry. Instead all I could do was sit there with him, and listen to him tell me about the life no one ever asked about.

This boy, he doesn’t want to live anymore, says he’s done too much bad to ever get anything good. I looked at him, and suddenly the boy no one ever noticed seemed like the only thing in this whole damn world. 

I told him he could change.

He said he’d given up.

I remember then there was this rage that emerged in my chest, I wanted to scream at him. 

I wanted to tell him that even if he didn’t believe that he wouldn’t see good in this life, leaving this life wouldn’t be any better. That killing himself eliminates any chance he could ever have of redeeming himself. I wanted to tell him this was only a moment of weakness.

This boy I didn’t even know.

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