I am ancient. I am old. And yet I am still standing strong bold. My thick walls and roof have given shelter to hundreds of kids who share one talent. They each share the freedom to choose. I have seen the fortunes and misfortunes in life of kids like you. I was brought to life for this sole purpose. And I am proud to say I have done the task I was given, quite fairly.
I was where you and the friends you hang out now met. I was where each of you passed an ordinary, and yet equally terrifying test. I was witness to all your foolishness and quirks. I watched as each of you poured your heart out thinking no one can hear you through my thick cemented walls. No one did. Just me.
I was witness to all your bickerings and strife. I watched as you and your friends sorted out your own mess in life. I know all I could do was bear witness to your life and everything in between. It saddens me sometimes to not be able to show you how I feel. I could not express my own opinion when you and your friends need a deciding vote. I could not tell each of you how I feel everytime you fight.I know you hide behind my doors when everyone’s outside looking for you. It makes me proud not all kids can come through my doors. Your friends are lucky to have you for they have a free pass. I can’t comfort you at times you pretend to sleep on my tables and chairs to escape reality. I can only offer you shelter when the rain is pouring outside the door away from harm. But I do not know what to do when you cry in front me and your tears flow through your eyes like waterfalls. I could only watch you and how I wish you could I am hurt too. I get angry when you punch me for no reason at all. I am sad when you leave me for days and only come at times you are not busy. My doors are always open, figuratively, for you my friend. And yet, it saddens me sometimes when I realize, someday, you’d leave when your time with me ends. I have seen kids like you come and go. I have given them shelter too. And yet, time goes by and they leave. Only few have come back and visited me. They have been grateful, I think. I have seen so many endings I no longer know which ones are happy or not. Nothing really lasts for someone like me. The kids who meet under my roof will someday leave me when they’re time is done. Still, the kids who share my roof and my walls, and ceilings, have an enormous talent. They have freedom. They write.
The papers that crowd my cabinet and floor, are all the proof you need to see.