Lost in the Dark

"I still have faith," I want to say to the person across phone connections. I want to say that things are going to be fine. And I do. But I don't want to sound like a broken record, repeating old cliches and things that mean nothing. I'd like to avoid these things. But I can't sometimes.
I'm supposed to be original. I'm a writer. Its just what we do.
But this child is lost in translation between her and this person she's loved for over a year now. I listen to her voice, trembling and cracked in the distance, riddled with evidence of recent tears. I feel like I know her pain and sorrow. I wish I did, so I could relate more closely and with more sensitivity. And I guess I do have mostly sensitivity in my advice and consoling. But I don't feel like I'm enough for this type of thing.
And it scares me.
Because all of my life I've felt I've been somewhat of a book of advice for my friends, and even people I barely know. I've felt like a beacon of hope, when not all, but a lot, is lost. But this is where I trod into unknown territory. This is where my treasure map ends. Where the other part is, for the time being, a mystery.
And it still scares me.
So I suggest things. I use all the techniques I've taught myself. I use my skills as a writer to spin long sentences of advice and knowledge that I'm limited to. And this kid has been my sister. And she's been my second home. And someone I can relate to. Almost as much as my real sisters. But it's crazy to think that maybe. Just maybe. Things are too hard to fix.
I want to reach through the phone. Give her a hug. Tell her its all going to be great, things will work out. That time will help this boy grow and mature. But in reality, sometimes people just don't reach that understanding. And that's why real life sucks so much. That's why growing up is so hard to do.
But I still hold on to that faith. And that hope. And those dreams I've had. Reality or not, things are supposed to work out. Because after probably a total of 15-20 hours a week spent on the phone after midnight on school nights and on my freshman year are worth it. Worth all the tears, and the laughter, the pain, and the hatred. It's all not a miracle. But real life working it's ways.
You know who you are. You that I'm talking to. I know you may not be reading this. But I hope you hear it in the words that I say every night to you. Things will be okay. I still hold faith. I still hold those dreams to be true. And I hold out every night, waiting for you to know that I know that things will be alright. You've gotten this far, and now it's time that you explore what you've never explored before. It's time to learn something new. Time to confront what you've never known before. You'll be okay. And I'll be there the whole time. Just a walk across the hall. Just a drive down the road. Just a phone call away. Forever.

Life is never easy. Life is never perfect. It's not what life is to us. It's not worth blaming. It's all about how we handle it. The challenges we're faced with. And how we destroy those barriers that lead to something more than ourselves.

until then,
keep it real,
- Alex