EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD
That´s how old he is. Tall, slim, not different from the others on what concerns to appearance. He doesn´t talk much - in fact, he doesn´t talk. He just does what he seems to think is extremely necessary. He embraces me when we meet, kisses me very lightly but slowly, as to reinforce what he´s doing. He always answers my questions with a smile to follow his voice, maybe worried about his own speech.
He lives alone with his own family. He never does what the others are doing or intend to do; it´s no use to invite him for this or for that - he´ll always say no. He watches movies that he doesn´t seem to enjoy and he reads books that most people wouldn´t feel like reading - philosophy, religion, yoga ... He also draws pictures of strange characters, prophets maybe of a different world. When he writes, he writes stories of worlds that end and a God who comes to start something new. He listens to music, too. Sometimes he plays the guitar, although with less frequency than he used to. And he prays many times a day, unaware of where he is or what people may think.
The fact that he´s not going to school doesn´t worry me. I know he´ll have plenty of time to study and, besides, I don´t think much of schools.But my heart sinks when I think of his own history - playing with his toys, apart from what happened in his house, his father coming home drunk and aggressive, his sister and mother so afraid, when he was a kid. At that time he didn´t seem to be affected by the problems - he just played with his toys.
Now , everybody does what they´re supposed to do - they go to school, they date, they make friends, etc and he ... he plays with his toys, I think. Maybe I shouldn´t be talking about this, it´s nobody´business, but I can´t help it. I can´t keep it all for myself, it´s just too heavy and too sad. Especially when he happens to say what he said yesterday: -"Grandma, won´t you come over one of these days and tell us some of your stories?"
3 comments:
Hi there.
What a strange young man you talk about there. Although i have a great deal of knowledge concerning mental health (Although definitely not as much as Pumpkin or a professional psychologist), i have to say, i am... what's the word... Nonplussed? Bemused? Puzzled (Puzzled might be best) at his behaviour.
AS i started reading, i wondered at some kind of autism, and then considered a kind of regression, due to his fathers behaviour... what really throws a spanner into any theory is your mentioning his reading these difficult books and the films etc...
I am most distracted by it every time i read this post. In fact i would have commented sooner but for the way it has left me thinking and... well... puzzled...
I hope a solution offering some hope reveals itself in time... Wish i could help by suggesting something. Alas that healing of the mind takes so much longer than the physical, and may never happen with some.
Take care
S.x
Thanks, Saturnyne, for being so nice. I can feel your heart in your words, and that drives me to tears, just at the thought that someone so far from me, so distant, I mean, can share something like this.
The only thing I didn´t mention was that he was in drugs, too, for a certain period of time. I think that the combination caused this condition.
I do believe that his mind will be able to get over the damage, provided that he has a quiet life. It may take a long time, but what´s time if you´re eighteen?
What do you think? I would like to have your opinion.
I should add that he also composes songs, writes passages, the only difference is that he always sticks to the same themes.
I have to confess that i am at a loss. The only thing that i can think of is that he is stuck and unable to move on from something in his past. Maybe he is afraid to face the future. I have been like that myself.
If this was England, i might recommend him seeing a consellor to perhaps talk through what's bothering him...
Or perhaps it's just plain old teenage laziness...
I'd hate to guess, and say "Look! Yes! That's it!" After all i am no psychologist.
Sorry i can't help more than this m'dear.
S.x
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