Take My Hand
She is stood on the ledge of the building. Just one more small step and she will fall. I am beside her, my hand outstretched ready to accept hers. She looks at me with questioning eyes not knowing why I am here willing to help her, stops her, save her. If I make a wrong move and she takes that one small step she will plummet to the ground below, delicate flesh and bone meeting solid concrete.
What pain must someone be feeling every day inside themselves to think death is better option, the only option?
Well I will tell you...
It's the pain of never thinking that you are good enough. Good enough for love or friendship. That you are not good enough to be happy or successful.
It's the pain of thinking that you don't make anyone proud. That what you have so far accomplished in your life has not made a difference to anyone or anything.
It's the pain of thinking that no one will love you. That no matter how much love you have to give to someone, you don't deserve to receive that back.
It's the pain of feeling like a failure. Of being a constant let down to those who know you whether it's personally or professionally. That no matter how hard you try, how much effort you put in everything always goes wrong.
It's the pain of feeling like you are full of everyrhing that is wrong in the world. That everything that goes wrong in your life if somehow your fault and nothing can fix it.
It's the pain of knowing that there is a way to stop it all but that in doing so you will cause the ultimate pain to those who do care about you, although you don't know why they do.
I know her pain. I have been in that pain before. I know how it tastes on my tongue, how it slowly caresses your soul and moulds you into what it want you to be. That after a while, you become scared of feeling anything else because this is all you know. I have stood at the edge of the darkness, just like her, and almost jumped myself.
But I didn't. I am here and I know now that I am stronger than it is. That I have power over it and not the other way round. I know that there is light to be found, no matter how small it is or how hard you have to look. I am living proof that it can be beaten and controlled.
So I look back into her eyes, so full of questions and hurt and offer her a small smile.
"I know" is all I say, all I offer her in answer to unspoken questions. She continues to look at me until I see the realisation settle in.
"How did you make it?" She asks glancing between me and the floor several storeys below. "How did you survive?"
I take another small step towards her, close enough now that she can easily take the offered hand. I look down at my hand, the answer she is looking for, and back up to her and raise it a little higher towards her.
Its the same anchor to life I was offered. Someone who had been there and knew what I was feeling. I could tell they understood and if they had battled the darkness and come out the otherside having found their light, that I could too. So I took the offered hand and with their help I went to battle.
It wasn't easy, the journey was long and hard and there were times I wanted to give up and give in, but that hand was always there to grasp, to guide me to finding my own light and I would do the same for her now, she has light to be found.
"Take my hand"