“Hey! You there, what are you doing on my street?,” accused the gangly poverty stricken boy that I passed everyday to and from school.
“Your street?,” I shouted back, “This your street as much as it is mine.”
“How so?,” he challenged back.
“For starters neither of us own this street, the city does; second, all we do is use this street,” I countered back.
Frustration and anger clouded his face, my point was valid and he was grasping for a response. With a huff he stormed off.
Whipping back around, before he had made it even ten steps he yelled back, “This isn’t over yet.”
Shaking my head with a small content and amused smile, I turned and continued on my way home. There was just something about that boy that intrigued me. Maybe it was the loneliness instead his eyes that mirrored my own. Every since my mother passed away and my dad and I moved this pit of loneliness has taken up my soul. No one could have tell that I was lonely because the mask of happiness that I put up. This boy who sat among the tall, horrific smelling garbage cans made questions bubble and stew in my mind. I wanted to know more about him, what was his story, most of all I just wanted to befriend him. How to befriend him is the great obstacle that I need to overcome, he is not the most friendliest person ever. Although deep down I think that their is kindness in his heart; I catch a glimpse of it shimmering in his eyes for a millisecond. He just needs someone to awaken that kindness and show him that it is okay to feel, to reach out and love again. I am such a hypocrite sometimes because this is something that I need to learn how to do myself. Maybe together the two of us can learn together and become friends along the way. Now to just get close enough that I can get past that steel barricade that he was placed around his heart, and maybe mine will begin to crumble too.