Letter to a boy

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Someone is going to say I am delusional. Or naive. I saw you coming and I knew straight away your story would break my heart. And it did. Your carefully constructed outer layer with your swagger impressed me. A boy who has had to be a man since well before you should have. You have had no defender of your own; you have had to do it for yourself your whole life. I wondered, when you were little and sweet, did anyone ever gently stroke your hair as you slept? Did anyone ever lovingly sneak a jelly snake into your carefully packed lunchbox?

You have not enjoyed the nurture of gentle hands, kind words, unconditional understanding. Fight and flight are your two best skills. Where is my magical chisel, that I can crack into that incredible shell. I know I wont be the one to save you, I know my job is not to save you. I know I know I know. But I wish I could save you.

I know there are people who have had enough of you. People who, probably hurt by you, roll their eyes and shake their heads. People who have tried, failed, tried, failed and given up. You have not met people half way. You refuse to take responsibility. I can picture the hell you have raised. I can’t help but think that yes, this one would fire up easy.

I hear something that makes my heart stop and all the pieces fall into place. I get it now. On paper you are broken beyond repair and you probably don’t even know it.  But all I can think of is how unforgettable your eyes are and that there is a spark inside of you and that you are not at all lost to us just yet.

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