Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul II by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Kimberly Kirberger Page B
Ads: Link
cot, he grabbed my arm. He placed my hand on his head wanting only comfort. It was so overwhelming that this complete stranger could need me to love him. For that instant, Charley made the world seem so simple.
As the weekend came to a close and the time to leave approached, Charley reached out to hold my hand. We were two scared human beings experiencing something so new that it was frightening. I forgot about facades and fake smiles, and instead felt a genuine love for another human being from the depths of my soul.
Robin Hyatt
Page 102
My First Experience at Tasting the Raindrops
My blue shirt blended in perfectly with the color of the concrete I leaned against. As my hands lightly brushed the bumpy surface, I considered staying in that spot forever. I thought about the past few days, and I started to cry. I felt lonely as I watched the other students. There were the '"in"' groups and the "dork" groups. All were laughing and talking, trying to catch the boys' eyes, and perfectly comfortable with their surroundings. I gazed down at my crumpled shirt and new Kmart brand jeans, and struggled to understand where I fit in the jigsaw puzzle of the seventh grade.
As the clock's hands slowly turned, the end of the day creeped in, and I stood in my hiding place. I could hear the groans of school buses arriving to take all the kids home. There were already students on the buses, and those were the ones I ached to join. They all looked the same in their navy blue skirts and matching white shirts. Stepping into the doors of a public school meant transforming my whole world from prayers and friends to brand names and gossip. Weeks passed by as I sank
Page 103
deeper and deeper into depression. Like my shirt and the concrete, I blended into the background of every situation, halfway wanting someone to notice me but at the same time longing to remain part of the masses. Then one day it all changed.
Every morning I dutifully filled the empty bus seat in the third row on the left side, and every morning I stared out the window and let my mind wander. There, I would imagine clouds and tons of friends and . . .
"Hey you." My thoughts were interrupted. "Yeah, you with the yellow shirt," I looked down at my yellow sleeve and slowly turned around. "Why do you always sit so close to the front?" I couldn't speak, and I got the feeling of comfort you get right before a huge storm when you can taste the raindrops in your mouth. Someone was talking to me. He stood at a height pretty average for his age and looked reasonably normal, so I quickly ruled out insanity as a reason for his sudden interest. The next day I sat in a seat farther back, the day after that one more, and another, and another. Finally, about a week later, I slowly made my way down the aisle of the bus, sat in the second seat to the back, turned around and said, "Hi." From that point on I had a friend.
At first I didn't say much, just sat back and listened, satisfied to be included. Each day I would say more and more. For the first time, when I spoke, someone really listened and remembered the conversation the next day. I'd found someone who cared, and I didn't feel so out of place anymore. My confidence and self-esteem soared and my hiding place started to collect dust. I still lurked in the shadows sometimes, but it was almost like they were pushing me away with their shady fingers and telling me to join the world.
Now I look forward to going to school, and gradually I am letting other people into my life. I owe it all to him. He
Page 104
acted like the big brother I never had. If something bothered me or made me mad, I'd tell him. We'd fight like cats and dogs until one of our stubborn minds finally gave up (I usually won). But perfection did not describe him. He had his bad sides as everyone does, but made up for it with his kind heart.
I shudder to think of what my life would have been like if I had never met him. Each day I grew stronger and more outgoing
As the weekend came to a close and the time to leave approached, Charley reached out to hold my hand. We were two scared human beings experiencing something so new that it was frightening. I forgot about facades and fake smiles, and instead felt a genuine love for another human being from the depths of my soul.
Robin Hyatt
Page 102
My First Experience at Tasting the Raindrops
My blue shirt blended in perfectly with the color of the concrete I leaned against. As my hands lightly brushed the bumpy surface, I considered staying in that spot forever. I thought about the past few days, and I started to cry. I felt lonely as I watched the other students. There were the '"in"' groups and the "dork" groups. All were laughing and talking, trying to catch the boys' eyes, and perfectly comfortable with their surroundings. I gazed down at my crumpled shirt and new Kmart brand jeans, and struggled to understand where I fit in the jigsaw puzzle of the seventh grade.
As the clock's hands slowly turned, the end of the day creeped in, and I stood in my hiding place. I could hear the groans of school buses arriving to take all the kids home. There were already students on the buses, and those were the ones I ached to join. They all looked the same in their navy blue skirts and matching white shirts. Stepping into the doors of a public school meant transforming my whole world from prayers and friends to brand names and gossip. Weeks passed by as I sank
Page 103
deeper and deeper into depression. Like my shirt and the concrete, I blended into the background of every situation, halfway wanting someone to notice me but at the same time longing to remain part of the masses. Then one day it all changed.
Every morning I dutifully filled the empty bus seat in the third row on the left side, and every morning I stared out the window and let my mind wander. There, I would imagine clouds and tons of friends and . . .
"Hey you." My thoughts were interrupted. "Yeah, you with the yellow shirt," I looked down at my yellow sleeve and slowly turned around. "Why do you always sit so close to the front?" I couldn't speak, and I got the feeling of comfort you get right before a huge storm when you can taste the raindrops in your mouth. Someone was talking to me. He stood at a height pretty average for his age and looked reasonably normal, so I quickly ruled out insanity as a reason for his sudden interest. The next day I sat in a seat farther back, the day after that one more, and another, and another. Finally, about a week later, I slowly made my way down the aisle of the bus, sat in the second seat to the back, turned around and said, "Hi." From that point on I had a friend.
At first I didn't say much, just sat back and listened, satisfied to be included. Each day I would say more and more. For the first time, when I spoke, someone really listened and remembered the conversation the next day. I'd found someone who cared, and I didn't feel so out of place anymore. My confidence and self-esteem soared and my hiding place started to collect dust. I still lurked in the shadows sometimes, but it was almost like they were pushing me away with their shady fingers and telling me to join the world.
Now I look forward to going to school, and gradually I am letting other people into my life. I owe it all to him. He
Page 104
acted like the big brother I never had. If something bothered me or made me mad, I'd tell him. We'd fight like cats and dogs until one of our stubborn minds finally gave up (I usually won). But perfection did not describe him. He had his bad sides as everyone does, but made up for it with his kind heart.
I shudder to think of what my life would have been like if I had never met him. Each day I grew stronger and more outgoing
Similar Books
