Writing Exercise: Date Unkown, No Title

I was going through some old things and found this writing exercise scribbled on a notepad. Never mind that the notepad was supposed to be for work purposes. I don't know the setting that triggered this exercise, but I am compelled to share it with you. Enjoy.

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Writing Exercise 1:

The boy silently walked out the classroom in tears, and suddenly the desks and blackboard began to blur in my vision. The halogen lights burned my eyes as my panic rippled through me like a punch in the gut. I was supposed to be the school counselor, the one with the chuck Taylors and button ups, the college degree with the Mr. Roger’s disposition, but I felt insignificant and small. I listened intently for my client’s return, because I knew would return to finish his session. (He came back to see me week after week, but I what good did I really do?) I sat with worms of anxiety eating away at my stomach, dreading that return.

The boy has cried for the first time in front of me, and I didn’t know what to do. His soulful brown eyes became misty with tears, and I watched in near horror as he described feeling like no one loved him. I froze. My silence my reply.

In the empty classroom I borrowed as my office, shadows of a 10 year old boy deep within me crawled out from his hiding place. A dead thing woken from his grave to feast on emotions I thought I left behind, and he threatened to drag me back with him.

The boy returned from the bathroom. He complained he had something in his eyes. I readily acknowledged his weak excuse with a nod and talked about the weather. I feared most of all going back to that place that brought him and me to tears, so I venture no further, and that 10 year old boy deep within me slithered back to his hiding place.

By locking those powerful shadows away, I left the boy behind. I wish to go back and allow him the chance to cry, because the 10 year old in me didn’t know that it was okay to cry.