15 views
He's Crying
Oh no. He's crying.
What should I do?
What kind of emotional turmoil would lead him to breakdown during Physics?
My heart calls out, desperately willing express compassion and sympathy, yet my mind jerks me back with the cold, prickly rope of anxiety.
The sobbing continues. Quick glances from other students dash back and forward. Even the teacher uncomfortably cleared his throat and resumed his lesson. Is anyone gonna comfort him?! Or at least give him a tap on the shoulder? Come on! I can't be the only one!
What if he's being bullied? Or abused by his parents? What if he's just depressed and the pressures of an adolescent have finally broken him? So many questions and scenarios with potential answers and solutions.
He wipes snot onto his sweater and lays his head down on the desk, covering his face and softly sobs. Damn my timid nature! When will I grow a pair and actually do something?!
The bell finally rang and everyone's packing their books and heading off to their next class. I subconsciously do the same, but I keep looking back on the boy. His head is still down on the desk. Not one muscle moved. Being almost the last one out of the classroom, I walk slowly, taking more repetitive glances at the boy before I completely leave.
Once I get halfway out the door, I pause myself. What if this is the last time this boy? What if tomorrow he'll harm himself and make a regrettable mistake? I'll beat myself up till the day I die and into the afterlife. I slowly walk back to him and hesitantly tap on his shoulders.
His head lifelessy rise off the desk and his weak, bloodshot eyes stare into my soul. He looks defeated. Wounded. Broken. This is it. Time to say the three words that'll probably save a young man's life or change nothing at all.
"Is everything okay?"
© JebWorks
What should I do?
What kind of emotional turmoil would lead him to breakdown during Physics?
My heart calls out, desperately willing express compassion and sympathy, yet my mind jerks me back with the cold, prickly rope of anxiety.
The sobbing continues. Quick glances from other students dash back and forward. Even the teacher uncomfortably cleared his throat and resumed his lesson. Is anyone gonna comfort him?! Or at least give him a tap on the shoulder? Come on! I can't be the only one!
What if he's being bullied? Or abused by his parents? What if he's just depressed and the pressures of an adolescent have finally broken him? So many questions and scenarios with potential answers and solutions.
He wipes snot onto his sweater and lays his head down on the desk, covering his face and softly sobs. Damn my timid nature! When will I grow a pair and actually do something?!
The bell finally rang and everyone's packing their books and heading off to their next class. I subconsciously do the same, but I keep looking back on the boy. His head is still down on the desk. Not one muscle moved. Being almost the last one out of the classroom, I walk slowly, taking more repetitive glances at the boy before I completely leave.
Once I get halfway out the door, I pause myself. What if this is the last time this boy? What if tomorrow he'll harm himself and make a regrettable mistake? I'll beat myself up till the day I die and into the afterlife. I slowly walk back to him and hesitantly tap on his shoulders.
His head lifelessy rise off the desk and his weak, bloodshot eyes stare into my soul. He looks defeated. Wounded. Broken. This is it. Time to say the three words that'll probably save a young man's life or change nothing at all.
"Is everything okay?"
© JebWorks
