Raw Opening

By Helene KwongWritten on 08-22-09He didn't think much of what he was doing: after all, it was natural for him to escapewhat was apparent to everyone else. He knew he could just walk away from it all, despite theconsequences of the pain within his soul. He had to leave it all behind, somehow. But it wouldnever leave him; it would always stay within the walls of his mind.It was easy to hide it from everyone else except that one person, but, that one personseemed to touch his soul deeper than he wanted anyone to. He tried to avoid that person; that person seemed to be everywhere at the wrong time. His eyes shifted, averting the gaze whenever it came for him; he did not bear to meet that person’s eyes.He wore this mask every day, hoping nobody else would penetrate through the façade he put up all around him. He liked to see others smile and laugh, he liked to feel like everything wasreally okay. But, nothing was okay at all. He heard voices in his mind, he heard the nagging, theconstant guilt calling out to him. At times, when he was left alone in his own room, he felthimself literally holding his head from the heaviness of his thoughts. He would sit in his chair and think hard, trying not to let the thoughts escape.That one person: that one person who seemed to read his mind every time he met that person’s gaze. But, he could not bear to let that person in any deeper; to be close to any human being meant to be vulnerable, and he didn’t want anyone to see him vulnerable. Was a mansupposed to be vulnerable at any point in his life? He wanted others to see him as a strong man, aman who could hold his head up high and be carefree about all the worries that the course of life brought to him.

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He read that one person’s words, over and over, trying to think what that person meantwith every letter that constructed each word. “Take care”—“Save your life”—“I can help.” Heknew he needed that person’s help more than anything else, but he felt himself stuck inside adark maze: a place that, no matter how hard he tried, he could not escape. He heard other voicestelling him that he could not be helped; that, he could only help himself, he couldn’t possibly behelped by anyone else.He thought about how he walked away from his pain in the past, how, even though he feltlike he had started himself a new life eight months ago, that the pain still followed him. He hadchanged; he thought he had, anyway. He no longer thought overly morbid thoughts, but he alsostill could not be completely happy. He would laugh, but he wouldn’t feel the laughter. He wouldshow happiness, but he would only feel a wound opening up every time he did so. He was not ahappy man.It was one day when he felt like he was starting to crack. When he saw that one person,he kept avoiding that person’s eyes. “How are you feeling?” That one person asked. He turnedaway from that one person, pretending not to hear. “Don’t walk away from me.” He didn’t hear those words. He walked away. He tried to hide within a wall of friends, trying to blend in and notlet that one person see his open wounds. He felt guilt, he felt shame. He wandered out of thegroup and he felt himself restless.They were all outside, and he felt himself wanting to run. He ran towards another groupwalking off to do another activity, just to avoid conversation with that one person. He thought hehad it all perfectly planned, to not let the wounds open up even more. He ran and he ran, tryingto hide what was spilling out of him into the air. But, he could not run and hide from that one