The Girl That Broke On the Gym Floor

The girl who sat on that gym floor curled up in a ball, struggling to fight for just a single breath, tears endlessly falling from her exhausted eyes.

I felt her.

Not just because my hand rested on her back,

Not just because she had gone through the same things I did,

But because I had been in this position many times before,

As did she.

I felt her.

Because it was almost as if I was seeing my reflection.

The reflection of me laying on my bathroom floor.

I shared my story in front of her,

Before she had crumbled,

And I felt her.

I felt her eyes lock onto my face as I spoke,

As if I took the words out of her mouth.

As if she had wanted to put her hand on my back as well.

I felt her. 

I felt the eyes of the strangers around us.

Watching,

Wondering,

Assuming.

“Oh, it was probably just an asthma attack.”

“Oh, she probably just got nervous from being around people.”

“Oh, maybe she shouldn’t have shown up to the activity if she knew this would happen.”

I felt those eyes,

Those thoughts,

Those words.

My only wish was to help her.

My only wish is to help her.

Because not too long ago,

I was just like her.

Broken,

Afraid,

Alone.

It’s as easy as walking past someone with a lit cigarette,

And you forget the next 13 hours of the day because it triggers the memory of what your mother smelt like.

It’s as simple as seeing a beer can in the garbage,

And your body trembles as you remember what your parents sold their souls to.

It’s as simple as hearing the word “mom”,

And your skin crawls like an ant trying to escape the gigantic foot chasing behind him.

You feel that small.

You feel that weak.

You feel that lost.

It’s real.

This girl broke in a matter of seconds.

It was only a matter of time.

She felt that small,

That weak,

That lost,

And I couldn’t do a damn thing besides place my warm hand on her back.

Hoping she could feel me too.