It was a long-shot, and there was nothing to be gained by taking the matter into his hands, but he no longer cared. Everything he had ever believed in had crumbled in the matter of a few days - the sole cement that supported the very structure of his frail self-esteem had collapsed into crumbling pieces, leaving a gaping gash he had never quite equipped himself to be able to heal on his own strength.
He was helpless and he knew it. Trying to fix what was broken was a long-shot, because his will was never powerful enough to make important decisions such as this.

Self-declared desperate and helpless, he simply did not know how to handle it.
Long ago, he had put all his faith in the hands of his precious Alyssa, whom he loved, deeper than anybody he’d ever loved in his entire life, and whom he knew loved him too, at the very least. Love had never come easy to him.
It was a strong emotion, and anything as powerful of the sort had always defeated him as far back as he could remember into his childhood. Not that he liked it much: the practice of remembering far back into his childhood made him physically shudder. It was a task as daunting as daily chores but not nearly as painful.
Thinking about it now, his nose crinkled in a scowl, for the metaphor eluded him.
The past was actually nothing like a bit of cleaning, because even the dustiest and murkiest of corners could always be made to shine, with a bit of effort.

Thinking about it now, his nose crinkled in a scowl, for the metaphor eluded him.

Memories seldom changed regardless of how often visited, if only ever becoming darker and further ridden with the cobwebs of time, the shadows of longing and regret.
This spiral of thoughts consumed him once more, and he groaned deeply, choking back an awful wail which he knew nobody within the vicinity must ever hear: he didn’t think he could ever explain the intricacy of heart ache to people who’d never even mentioned the concept outside the context of ridicule or fiction.
But the emptiness engulfed him like a solid entity, and he could not help but descend further down the despicable path of self-pity he’d walked so often through, it was almost an obsession. They were feelings rather than images – powerful, raw emotions of how it had felt to be taunted for his shortcomings, tortured for things he had considered perfectly normal, eventually growing up with the solid, sharp idea that people were supposed to be cruel, childish and difficult.

He was overcome by stifled sobs as he remembered the giddy young faces, hauling bits and pieces of whatever shit they found on the floor, squarely at the back of his stiff head. 
He wailed in anger at the audacity of those children, as they sniggered audibly enough to let him know the joke was about him, always about him.
He cursed and tugged at his hair, remembering the day he’d found the childish note stuck to the back of his green school jacket: ‘I am desperate.’
He supposed, as he resisted the urge to kick at the wall, the feelings he was overwhelmed with were part of his helplessness. Once upon a time, this kind of thing had been everyday life to him, so common as to make him think he had no reason whatsoever to complain. He could do nothing about them at this moment in time.
He was older now, he knew better, but that wasn’t really an improvement to his situation at all. He could embrace notions that empowered him, simple steps, such as being able to ask for forgiveness, to talk about an issue without avoidance and with hope for improvement – but in the end, he knew the outcome would always lie within the power of the other person. He could think that maybe he could get a shot at getting what he really wanted, but he had no delusions that this would actually occur, especially when he himself was of the opinion was that it was too late.
Life had consumed both himself and Alyssa.
Friendship was a long-shot these days, but it was what he wanted at the very least.

He cursed and tugged at his hair, remembering the day he’d found the childish note stuck to the back of his green school jacket: ‘I am desperate.’

Try to see the subtle bad over the turf of good. That evil, etched within the souls of the pure so blurred and obscure it’s often mistaken as lapse of character rather than the symptom of a larger, hidden darkness. I was always told to look beyond the plastered smile portrayed only for the camera, and familiarize myself with hidden dimensions of a person that the photograph can’t reveal.
Whether warnings from family were provided only to prevent unfortunate incidents which might result from narrow-mindedness and naivety, the repercussions or this simple life lesson were such, that I could not have foreseen them even in my brightest, most analytical moments. It’s fair enough to say that at least I’ve learnt from the shortcomings and failings that I’ve experienced, adding the following fact to the family circle of wisdom: that life and people cannot be divided into fields of scattered good and evil. It is a matter of values and opinions which composes every ecosystem of life, but the rest is true enough. There is so much more behind a single image than can be perceived at first glance.

As an example, within my first glance at Ryan, I saw beauty amongst the world of the lost and internally desolate. I experienced the meaning of warmth, and affection like no definition of ‘love at first sight’ can ever hope to encase. There was nothing bewitching about the way his dull pupils flickered onto mine accidentally, or anything compelling about his dishevelled shoulder-length hair as it half hid the curve of his gentle, yet generally casual smile. He was just another guy floating past the mindless grey heads of those roaming those un-enchanting, unremarkable corridors in our nondescript, Western school. And yet approaching him, my eyes could not help but watch him long after he’d broken our first brief, meaningless glance.

Something had struck me. A something that managed to bookmark that image of him, in my head like nothing else had on that dismally dull morning. And maybe it was simply due to my mood that day, but the sight of him had made me stop in fascination. Arms wrapped around his knees as if to protect himself from a nonexistent breeze, he perched on the bottom corner of the staircase by the corridor leading off the Hall, all on his own, his expression the epitome of happiness and delight as he followed the lines on a paperback cradled in his hands. I could just hear his faint laughter as he read on; the truly honest fire evident in his eyes overwhelmed my senses, and sent my heart racing faster and faster as it thrived, oddly, at the boy’s casual mirth.
I knew my face to be burning even as I watched him, although I could not quite figure out the reason for it at the time. Then, closer still, I saw that the genuine smile contrasting the skin of his own face suggested the happiness I had witnessed was just as unnatural in his lifestyle as anything else. But it was a lapse of momentary yet true delight that I loved to see in someone who looked so alone.
At least that’s what I told myself back then.

I knew my face to be burning even as I watched him, although I could not quite figure out the reason for it at the time.

Somehow, this grew to become the saddest, most adorable sight I’d ever come across in my life. That in itself was enough to fuse the memory like a picture carved into the stone of caves, tint resistant enough to survive the torment of time through millions of nights and days. 
And it was over too soon. His laughter died. My heart stopped racing and started aching in a hollow pulses of unexplained want. Time shifted and the sea currents moved on along the hundreds of nameless faces and bodies off the make their way into their early, morning lessons. My eyes were still fixed on the figure of him, still unknown to me, now with his head down as he stared intensely, almost furiously at the pages of his tome.
My head still felt hot as a thousand realizations began to hit me; I had to vouch to take notice of none of them, as I walked away, a little faster than I had intended.
I’ve never been one to forget. Rather than being encouraged to aim high, Cassie always had a policy to forbid me to back down on whatever aims I choose for myself. I get what I want because I’m fully conscious of what my needs are. My aims are handpicked and close to my heart, so I fight for them with confidence and determination. I’m not perfect, but this has gained me moderate popularity and some few good friends which come and go.
I’ve known and liked all types of people, never settling for one particular kind of person, because none are perfect, and I know this only too well. It’s what makes a well learned, open-minded person. I honestly believe this. It makes for an interesting life, and while this means I get to know more people than is strictly necessary, it leaves an unfulfilling aftertaste at the worst of times. I suppose the feeling of emptiness has more to do with myself more than anything else, though. The people eventually grow into a mass of faceless, nameless, emotionless burdens. There always has to be something to whine about when you’re fifteen though. I’m not stupid. I’m aware of all the factors. Having twenty or so teenagers crying in my ears isn’t exactly uplifting. Not many people know that popularity isn’t some cherry on a sundae, or a trophy at the finish line – quite the opposite, in fact. It’s a more difficult life than most would be willing to cope with. Knowing this, at the time, I adopted policy of upbeat ness, which helped me cope with every new situation life could possibly bring. This particular new situation was exciting and I was quick, as ever, to make my views known to the world.

I suppose the feeling of emptiness has more to do with myself more than anything else, though. The people eventually grow into a mass of faceless, nameless, emotionless burdens.

‘That guy there,’ I said trying to sound as casual as possible, the next time I spotted my mystery guy out in the courtyard during a particularly hot day, at break, ‘what’s his name?’
‘You in love again, Mikhail?’ Iago, a close friend of mine, flashed me a knowing grin. ‘All your precious fan-girls will get jealous.’  
   
I laughed loudly, and several wondering heads turned to stare. Humanity can be incredibly funny at its most unceremonious. That’s really something most people fail to take notice of.