I drove my car down the side streets to the high school on my usual route to another dreaded day of useless learning of things I will never actually use in my life. I had no idea what was waiting for me when I got there. As I walked into the building it all seemed wrong. Something inside me felt uneasy, like after you watch a very graphic movie. Something wasn’t right at all. The entire high school was quiet, so quiet you could hear the usually unnoticed buzz of the air conditioning. I brushed of the feeling and the silence as I walked over to my locker, grabbed my books and headed to class. Sitting down in algebra, I couldn’t seem to ignore this bad feeling I was having. It was felt as if something was gnawing on my stomach. Then, when I least expected it, my bad feeling was confirmed when a teacher unknown to me entered the classroom with a sad, disappointed look on his face. He casually interrupted my teacher as he explained that another student had committed suicide. I sat with my face blank letting his words bounce off my face. Feeling that gnawing feeling in my stomach get worse and worse, but boys don’t cry. I sat in silence and tried to figure out what the hell was happening on this otherwise normal day. As the girl next to me burst out in tears I could only stare at her with disbelief as her cold, dead eyes stared into my soul for some kind of feeling. Some kind of sign that I cared. I tried, but all that came out of my mouth were mumbles. The gnawing feeling turned to emptiness as I walked out of my classroom. I didn’t know where to go so I walked mesmerized through a sea full of people who were unaffected by this tragic news. I tried to talk and comfort my friends as they broke down into tears in front of me and screamed words of hatred. And still I stood quietly confused and blank. Nothing. No pain, no tears. Finally, as I held my best friend in my arms as she cried her heart out, I too, wept tears. Walking into the room with everyone else, it had finally hit me that she was gone. I could no longer hold back tears. After awhile my eyes were red and puffy, I was surrounded by tissues, I was comforted, and I was heartbroken. And all that seemed left was to walk up to her grave, leave a red rose, and say my final goodbyes as birds sang in the background and the wind whispered words of wisdom as I sat at the base of her grave, quietly praying for some sort of forgiveness.
As we sat in the basement casually drinking, bullshit conversations filled our mouths as we became drunker and drunker. Trying to have a good time, before having to deal with the real world of being a teenager. Conversation suddenly took a very sharp turn into very serious life discussions. Questions filled our minds. Where did we see ourselves in twenty years? What were our goals in life? Would we always be best friends?
We sat in a circle and took turns answering the questions. Everyone seemed to think that no mattered what happened we would always be friends, but I didn’t feel the same way. As much as I loved them, I needed to do something different then what they thought. They talked of staying in Ohio and living out the rest of their lived where we grew up. This disgusted me. How they could stay in this dull place, I asked myself. Finally, when it was my turn to answer the questions, I answered truthfully. I spoke of how much I loved them, but sometimes people need to leave what they know all behind for something different. For something they think they absolutely need. I told them that as much as I loved them, I had very different plans. I explained that when I had the chance I would leave Ohio for good and cut off all connection to the dreaded state. I was no longer going to be Vincent Andrew Laudato. I was going to start fresh. I was going to move as far away as possible and not even call my family. I was going to be alone. As I spoke of my plans they stared at me blankly, almost with hatred. When I finished, they were upset with me. They didn’t understand. They asked me “why?” over and over again. The only response I could come up with was that I truly needed to leave everyone behind. I needed to disappear and fade away into the distance. I needed it for myself. They never quite understood, but what I realized from this, is something that I had never thought of: I was different. My friends and family had no idea who I really was inside. They didn’t understand me and it seems they never would. They questioned our friendship and questioned my morals. I learned that as identical as I was to my friends, I was in turn completely different.
Lying in my bed, thinking about the universe before I fall asleep. The question of faith enters my mind. Does God really exist? As much as I want to have faith, this man has never once showed me that he does. I have trouble believing in him, but the thought of there being nothing out there after you die seems heartbreaking as well. Sometimes I find myself cursing the heavens for the things that have happened to me. I curse God for taking away my friends, for putting me with this horrible family, and for putting me in a place where I just do not seem to belong. Other times I find myself praying to him at night to help me through the next day. I ask him for forgiveness and to assume responsibility for my sins. I ask that no one ever has to go through what I have gone through. I ask that he takes all the sadness of the word and place it upon my shoulders for me to carry. I praise him for my friends. I ask that he let them forget me. I tell him it would just be easier that way, but still no answer. He is never there for me, he has never spoken to me, and I sit here still with issues he has cursed me with. Why, if he does exist, has he ignored me? When I needed him most, he was nowhere to be found. The Bible says call for me and I will be there. I have called time and time again and yet you still push me out of the way. I ask of you, what lesson are you trying to help me learn? If it is to hate myself, you have succeeded in many ways. I do not know how to take faith into my life without it ever having it helped me. I can no longer face the priest in church, so instead I bust myself with other things to distract myself on Sundays. I try to put you out of my mind, but I have so many questions. I suppose the only time I will ever receive the answers to these many questions is when I die. For now I sit and I ponder and hope for the best, but if you are there, I beg of you… please help me out. If only just this once. Give me a reason to bow my head at night and pray for forgiveness. Show me that all my prayers have been heard by you. Let me know it will all be okay in the end. Help me except you as my savior and my king. Just show me a sign, no matter how small it may be. I will be looking.
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