Where Sadness Lives

He had sadness living in places where sadness shouldn't live. It's easy enough to say, "he didn't deserve this," but then how many ever do? When Jacob (not his real name) first spoke with me I knew he was a boy who's story was going to get tragic. I never imagined it would happen so early, or with such finality.

Drugs are an awful thing. Don't ever let anyone romanticize them, ever. They're more often than not the building blocks of pain and lost potential. They're far, far too frequently the cloud that obscures not just the sun but the entire sky. They're unfair, and indiscriminate.

He was a boy with potential. Now he's just a memory with regrets all around it.

My words were mostly lost on him, I think. All of those times spent trying to convince him that he was allowed to take up space, or trying to explain to him what happiness looked like, when he had never known a day of it after the age of fourteen. It's hard to breathe when you don't think that you deserve air.

I'd be happy enough to never have to hug a grieving father again in my life.