The Synth Collective @synthcollective - Tumblr Blog

My heart sank when I stepped up past the top step, questioning myself the entire way up the dirty stairwell, every footstep punctuating my expectations for this moment, and yet when the moment approached and I was proven right, I was breathless and weak; sitting there with his back turned to me was the boy I was looking for---the boy I hoped I wouldn’t find here…because that only proved to me that I was right.

He was sixteen and athletically built yet suffered many self-destructive habits, harbored under the guise of “living” life to the fullest, something that caused him to be both muscular and frail. He wore a paint spattered sweater with the hood up, oblivious to my appearance, I couldn’t see---because of the hoody---but he was wearing headphones, the flat kind that sat over the ears; I could not hear from that distance but I knew the music was loud, but not loud enough.

I didn’t need to sneak, I didn’t need to creep, he could not hear me…yet the snail’s pace at which I approached made every movement feel dramatically slow, like a giant’s stride across three miles of pasture. I meant no malice, but one should always be careful when approaching a person sitting alone on the edge of a 10 story parking structure.

The intrusive thoughts rise. You could just push him, end this now and never have to have this conversation, the consequences could be catastrophic but you may not even be around to face them. Something I knew would never come to be, from a voice I’ve grown familiar with, so I just pushed it back down. The easy way out is not the kind of person I am have become. So instead I breathe more assuredly and I alter my angle of approach.

I stand a ways away, but close enough that my presence can be sensed, and when I slap my hands on the concrete---a little too enthusiastically, the cold stung my flesh---letting the reverberation be my “excuse me.” He noticed but to the untrained eye remained motionless, but I knew that he could see from his peripherals, if my vision was better I would’ve seen the subtle darting of the eye and the sudden widening of the pupil.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for mate, but I’m not in the mood.”

The difference was slight but the volume of his voice changed slightly mid sentence, I saw no movement, but it indicated that he had pressed the pause button on his Walkman allowing him to hear, while still looking like he didn’t notice. Knowing him, I probably hadn’t snuck at all since getting to the rooftop. A thought that made me smile and relax a little; I shouldn’t be scared of a 16 year-old, even if he holds my life in his hands.

“I---I’m not looking for anything….well, except to talk to you.”

“Fuck off.”

I had to hold back a snort, hearing him say that tickled my soul.

“I will, definitely, I just want 10 minut---”

“I’m broke as a joke so all you’d be doing is wasting your own time.”

“I’m not selling anything…” anything but an idea I thought to myself.

“Well, you’re in my space so say what you want and let me be, yeah?” His voice was full of venom, he spoke kindly but firmly, yet I knew those words were delivered by fangs.

I turned to him fully and took an unprovocative step towards him, his head finally turned to look at me. His eyes rapidly look me up and down, no doubt gauging the threat; I was not bothered or offended, I knew this was a survival tactic for him.

My voice was confident, “I want you to know it gets better.”

“Pffft HAHAHAHA!” he erupted in laughter that carried out into the 5 am sky.

My voice was less confident, “No seriously I mean it.”

He finishes his chuckle and says “and I’m sure you mean well, but frankly you don’t know me nor can you predict the future. So save your cliches for someone who cares.”

I knew (though I could not see) that his finger went back to the play button, hovering and waiting for the moment to fully ignore me again.

“Look” he spoke again, “I don’t know who you are or who told you to come talk to me, but there’s nothing to intervene on okay? I’m just chilling and thinking, this is a nice spot….I’m good, you can leave me be.”

I stared at him as he turned his head back, I could feel the walls being bolstered around him, I was losing ground fast.

“I know…it’s actually kinda bullshit, at least on the whole, the world is already on the downhill at the moment and is only going to go---” I don’t need to tell him of the future of the world, I just need to let him see he belongs in it.

“---that phrase always bothered me too. That one and “It’s always good in the end, if it’s n---”“Not good---” he joined in,

“---it’s not the end.” we both said simultaneously, amplifying the statement, and both of our tones marking the ridiculousness of it.

He let out a chuckle, moved his hand from his pocket, and shifted moderately to face me more, though keeping the point of interest that he held before I arrived, in view.

“It’s like” he did not smile, but I could tell it was a subject that made him happy to discuss “there are plenty of people who end their lives before it gets better….even without suicide, people get hit by cars all the time!”

I decided to join in, “I’m pretty sure anyone who dies from illness is probably not thinking of things as being all good in the end.”

His eyes widened a little. “Oh that’s a good one, I’m gonna have to use that ... .if you don’t mind that is.”

I forgot that he indeed has a good spirit, troubled, but wholesome.

“Look, I’m gonna be real with you, I only have 10 minutes and I’ve used 3 of them already…I can only say so much so I feel like…like…”

His face grew concerned.

I sighed and scratched the back of my head in frustration.

He noticed.

“I’m not saying that everything gets better, because frankly it doesn’t. Not for you, not for me, not for our friends, family, neighbors, the world. Nobody can claim that so I get why that statement sounds hollow…I think it needs to be changed really.”

“Changing a cliche doesn’t make it any less hollow; same words different day mate.”

“I used to think so, but language is important and really CAN have an impact”

He rolled his eyes, “Positive thoughts lead to positive actions? Puh-lease.”

I ignored that and continued “What it SHOULD BE is that YOU get better.”

“Again…you can’t prove that. Life is shit, existence is painful, nobody kno---”

He cut himself off as though a large invisible hand just smacked him in the head, a familial type of silencing, the you language of shut your mouth before they ask you questions.

“---look, I’m sure you mean well, but you can tell whoever sent you to check on me that I’m fine.”

Time was always running out, so I realized it may be best to simply ignore him…as hurtful as that felt. “You’re misunderstanding my phrase, it’s not that your life gets better, or good things happen to you, or you get the things you want---that is bullshit. YOU get better as in, you start to learn more and experience more, which will shape your view.”

He let me continue, something I knew he would but I have grown to not expect, it was kinda refreshing. After a few beats I did.

“I was…” I knew better than to say like you because he would instantly shut down, he was unique and the thought that he was alone was both depressing and comforting to him; to take that away could almost be cruel, but ultimately it would shut down my ability to reach him. “I was of the same mindset, and it took me a WHILE to put together what I’m telling you…which is why I feel it’s more than just a simple cliche.”

His eyes were affixed and calm, he was hearing me, now all I had to do was get him to listen.

“You’re gonna go through a lot more crap in your life. Late teen and early twenties are a rough time and you’re gonna find yourself here several times over, with much more intentional intentions. That’s unavoidable.”

He chuckled a little “Greeeat, real inspiring stuff.”

I kinda did too, I don’t think I was doing so well at this convincing thing; my time was half gone and all I managed to do was get him comfortable enough to let me near. So I took the moment to show him how I cared.

I took a few steps closer, which was thankfully allowed without his withdrawing, and hoisted myself up onto the ledge, swinging both feet (slightly more carelessly than I probably should’ve) over to dangle like his.The move surprised him, it was a long way down so the act of sitting here was of no minor consequence.I did it to deliberately, symbolically show that I was here with him. Not just some voice from the side of safety, telling him whatever he needed to hear to get him back…

…I was sitting there to let him know that I would rather face the danger to reach him, than to live in my safe world and be unable to even try. Sometimes the best thing you can do is sit with someone in their darkness, let them know they aren’t alone.

My mouth opened and I inhaled to speak, but it was caught in my throat, so I closed it. I tried again but every word that I had prepared fell flat before it could even reach my throat. I was here but what good does it do? I came to make promises, things that I knew to be true, but how can I prove that to a hurting teenager who feels like nobody knows the real person inside. How can I express that I DO know….intimately how he feels? The shame, the fear, the guilt, the joy, the terror, the danger, the freedom, the expression, the love……………….all of it is possible despite how low he feels.

“It’s not that it gets better. But you learn so much through these times, these struggles will hit hard, the hammer makes the iron hot by striking, it’s gonna be a real tough time, I can’t even pretend like that’s not the case. But there are going to be moments along the way that show you that the real you is what becomes better.”

He spoke for the first time in what felt like eons, trying to reach a silent teenager with words you know are filled with richness but can only be seen at face value, and the mindset of someone who doesn’t believe in them, ain’t buyin’ it.

“You can’t possibly know the real me,” he used finger-quotes, “just because it worked out for you doesn’t mean your experience is universal. I’m glad you feel that way, but you have absolutely no right to tell me that; to give me hope in a future you can’t promise. Fuck off.”

That hit me hard. It was different than the first time, I could feel the power behind that dismissal. He was solidifying those walls.

“I will…like I said, I’m not trying to sell you anything, including hope. You’re right that nobody knows you, but that’s because you are keeping that person inside; you can’t expect anyone to know that there’s more to know if they don’t….uh…know.”

He actually laughed at this, not a loud belly-aching kind, not the sharp crisp disbelieving kind, but the quiet acknowledgement that I was indeed human. “Look, you’re sweet, and I know you want to do good, but I’m the wrong person to be talking to.”

“NO!” I didn’t yell but I was more forceful than I meant to be, “ahem, no, you’re precisely the person that needs to hear this.”

“Why because I’m unreachable?” He said the last word in a clearly sarcastic tone.

“Yes.”

He looked offended.

“I mean it….you think of yourself as unreachable, you hate yourself more than anyone else, no amount of words can hurt like the ones you tell yourself. Yes you’re unreachable but not because you are bad, not because you push people away, and not even because you have an identity that you aren’t sharing with loved ones.”

His eyes were widened; a combination of fear and relief, shame and pride, freedom and withdrawal.

“It’s because you aren’t even sharing that identity with yourself.”

“I---I---”

“You wanna hear another one I hate? You can’t love anyone else if you don’t love yourself.”

He actually, loudly laughed at this, but his eyes betrayed his sounds as they started to become glassy.

“You don’t need to love yourself…that’s a life long struggle and frankly, is never over. Every moment of every day we have the opportunity to let ourselves down, it’s not just something that you can do once and then you’re good for the rest of you life, that’s not how it works.”

I turned to face him, he shifted more to match; we were eye to eye on more ways than one. I knew that he didn’t need to hear my words if he could just listen to my message. Words mean nothing if the body says something different, and right now I just needed him to know that he was very close to me. At the risk of losing my balance I had even moved closer, bringing our two worlds together.

“You don’t need to believe that IT gets better, just believe that YOU will. You’ll get to know yourself more, you’ll see different sides of the world---hell, even different worlds entirely---you’ll learn a lot and then realize there’s still so much more to go…you may even learn that some of the things you know, aren’t the case.”

“And that’s a good thing?” his tone wasn’t snarky or sarcastic.

“Absolutely! With that changing of perspective you’ll have a deeper understanding. The things you feel now may be trivial or impactful, they can even change back and forth. Things that are hugely difficult now can end up being a funny conversation with friends or acquaintances…not because the trauma itself is inconsequential, but because you have grown.”

I scoffed a little at my own words and continued, “Also there’s gonna be things that you didn’t even realize affected you that turn out to be hardships down the line.”

He scoffed too, “Great…so I got therapy to look forward to is what you're saying…”

“Well….it’s not a terrible idea, but you can get there on your own accord, for now” as I only had a few moments left, “I just want you to know that way that you think of yourself isn’t objectively true, it comes from feeling as though you have to hide the purest, most basic part of human existence, yourself. It gets better means that the shame and guilt, the fear and anxiety….even the good parts like love and companionship, community and ...will get better when you allow yourself to accept that you aren’t permanently fixed to this moment in time, or this specific space.”

“I…I think a lot; like most of the time I’m in my own head…” his voice wavered, “...how can I focus on the so-called real world when I can barely make sense of half the things I think about? Does that ever get better? You seem to have your shit together.”

Now I was the one letting out the large laughter that echoed over the still distance.

“I’d love to say that I do, but even at my age life is still being figured out….but it’s all sorts of different stuff; stuff that matters more to me than the stuff I was doing for everyone else. My life has TONS of stress, but it’s all because I’m doing the things that I want to do and I want them to be great. The people that loved me even as I fought them, even as I fought myself, kept me going through the dark parts.”

Dawn was cracking, time was up, he wasn’t convinced but there was nothing else I could do…he has his own life to live and all I could do was inspire him to allow the thought that it was one that deserved to be experienced. The purples had been replaced with blues, orange, and now yellows as we talked but a solitary beam of light fell on his face, distracting him long enough for me to look at him fully, in the light of day, the beautiful person that it took me so long to see.

I knew he would only hear me peripherally, I wasn’t very good at taking advice back then, something about living my mistakes made things stick so much stronger…I was only able to give him this advice because I had failed through it myself, and if I tried to keep him from harm he wouldn’t’ve learned it either. There’s no way I could’ve prepared him for anything to occur, not the relationships that broke his heart, not the friendships gained and lost, there was nothing he could do to prevent disasters. There was no point in talking to him, but that was part of the problem so of course I had to at least try.

When I was allowed 10 minutes back in time to talk to myself, I knew that there was only one thing I wanted to get across, that I wasn’t alone, that my thoughts deserve to be held, and that “It gets better” is about more than just life going well, it’s about self-discovery, self-expression, and self-acceptance.

“Y’know, I don’t mean to be forward but you’re pretty cute.”

I chuckled, “Oh no, you do not want to be hitting on me…I don’t know if that’s even allowed!”

I wiped a tear, “but it says sooo much that you tried.”

He smiled a little, completely clueless but adorable anyways, “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

He looked back at the spot that held his focus for so long of our brief encounter, something in his gaze changed and the object wasn’t as alluring any more.

He opened his mouth, inhaled, and then closed it.

He took another stab at speaking but couldn’t, frustration seemed to build on his face.

He just sighed and said “Thanks. I kinda needed that.” He lowered his head.

I reached out, I wanted to embrace him, more than anything in the world I wanted to physically hold him in the way I knew that I needed, to be embraced with understanding, to be truly seen.

A soft chime echoed in my ear. He turned to say something to me, finally a smile---a genuine smile---was on his face, but I couldn’t hear what he said.

I faded out of his time and back to my own. The agency was expressly clear that no changes would happen, they had many people express outrage that their planted seeds never came to fruition. My agent started the after-travel-session by addressing this first-and-foremost.

“I know, I know…I wasn’t expecting change. I know that my words weren’t going to fix anything, I know that his future is as it was. I didn’t go to change anything, or to even try to fix him.”

The agent was caught off guard, “Then why go? Why spend the small fortune to achieve nothing? Most people try to be heroes, or rich, or to avoid disaster. Why just talk?”

I thanked her and hung up the phone. Some things are harder to put into words to someone who wasn’t there. It was enough for me to know that at some point, in some timeline or universe, the things I needed to hear most got the chance to be heard; even if they weren’t listened to, knowing that they were released into the ether was good enough for me.

The teen who didn’t expect to see that sunrise is now skating home to sneak back inside before anyone wakes, like normal, only today he’ll see the world in a new light….I did nothing but sit with him in that darkness and let him know he’s not alone, I distracted him long enough to make it through the night, to see the dawn and to see that object he was so transfixed on from a new perspective.

You don’t need to think positively, you don’t need to lie to yourself, you just need to have patience and remember that time is ephemeral, and that includes the dark times. I don’t know how to navigate through the valley, it changes every time, but when we walk together our light can grow.

It gets better? Can’t say for certain.

You however, will.

You just need the patience, or the company, to make it to dawn.

Happy Strong Pride everyone.