Talking about Bus drivers…

Hello Beautifuls!

How are you these days? Busy? Not at all? Me, I have lots of projects going on, especially since Christmas is getting close! My mind is sorta multitasking, and when I try to do several things at one time I end up forgetting what I was doing. It’s a little messy in there I guess. My thoughts aren’t exactly being considered before I express myself (nothing unusual really, but still). This weekend, I wasn’t thinking at all.

I attended a leader-ship course in church (mainly about preventing abuse and assault on children and teenagers). The course was divided in three separate parts, one being a group discussion where each group got a made-up scenario to solve. My table had a situation on intercession.

20 year-old Tyler feels strongly this year to be a part of the intercession team. He has never done it before. You are not in the intercession team, but you have been watching Tyler during the services and noticed that many young girls tend to come to him. When the girls sit down next to him, he starts the act with removing some hair from their face with his fingers, looks deeply into their eyes the whole time, holds them close during the prayer and gives them a firm hug before saying goodbye. The girls feel happy and appreciated. 

The first question given to this situation was: Is this a problem or not? Of course it is a problem, we all agreed on that. When the course instructor wanted to hear our answers I was the one to motivate our thoughts. To explain why this was a problem, I wanted to use a clear example. “It may seem alright when 20 year-old Tyler does this, but what if this person would have been Bob, the 55 year-old bus driver? Would it have been okay if he’d have done the same thing? No, that would have been creepy…”

I assumed the rest of the people in the room understood my point. It was clear and concise. When I got home that day I realized something, though. Didn’t one of the scout leaders in that course mention he was working as a bus driver? Yes he did. Now he was 25 at the moment, but one day, wasn’t he gonna be the appalling 55 year-old bus driver I just described? Yes he was. O boy, what had I said…

I don’t know if he was any offended by that or if he even realized what I had said, but just realizing my mistake was awkward enough. What if I would start thinking before opening my mouth for a change? I could definitely use some practice. It’s not like it’s the first time I’m talking without thinking things through properly!

I know this may not be the most serious mistake ever, but I was still embarrassed from it. Poor bus driver… Well, better luck next time! I try to think of the positive aspects as much as possible. After all, I did learn something – don’t use clear examples before analyzing the members of the room! I also need to work on my thinking-before-talking skills, although that is gonna take longer. I heard something clever today, though. If you’ve read the Bible, you may have encountered it too, in Matthew 15:18: “But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this defiles a person.” Maybe if I stop thinking of bus drivers as something appalling (not that I do that a lot, this is also an example), I would never have to worry about saying such a thing? I think there’s much truth in that!

So what do you say, Beautifuls? Do you recognize the situation, talking without thinking? Well, if you do (otherwise this will just be a reminder to myself), try Matthew 15:18. Not only could it save you from awkward incidents, but make you a more positive person! I say give it a shot! ♥︎

Hang on there Beautifuls, 27 days till Christmas!

Love,
Lissy

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Winter Breezes…

Hey Beautifuls!

In my part of the world things have really started to change. Now that December is getting close, the days become shorter, windier and colder. Me, I am one of those boring kids who prefer staying indoors as soon as the winter comes. Although I must admit; I don’t think it’s boring. I think it’s super cozy! Sweatshirts and blankets, a cup of coffee or tea and a good episode of my favorite series. How could anybody not enjoy that?

The best part is when the first snow comes, though, and the dark landscape becomes a little bit brighter. By then, I could see myself stepping out into the winter breeze just to admire the lovely picture!

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But with winter comes also something else worth waiting for… Christmas!

I usually think that starting with Christmas lights and music in November may be too early, but honestly, this year I don’t care! I went shopping for Christmas gifts this weekend. There were Santas and mistletoes, carol singers and bells, and I just loved it! After all, it is only once a year.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that this time I’m simply willing to enjoy this time of the year. Sure it will be stressful to make it go around and sure it will be frustrating when I can’t find the perfect gifts (as always), but isn’t it really just about being with the people you love?

If it is, why make such a big deal out of it? Why not just try to enjoy the beautiful atmosphere, the stupid music they play every year and the Santas that appear in every home? I will (try), and I think you should too!

So Merry Christmas, Beautifuls, one month in advance! I hope you’ll be able to enjoy December. And if you for any reason are celebrating Christmas by yourself this year – all my love to you!

Take care lovely readers. ♥︎

See you soon,
Lissy

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The Boy No One Could Help (Part Three)

Hey Beautifuls!

If you haven’t yet read the first parts of the story, I’d recommend you to read those before moving on to this one. Below are links to Part 1 – 2:

Part 1: When I First Met Simon

Part 2: To Walk And Talk

Got it? Okay, let’s continue…

Part Three: Goodbye

It was amazing how slow the time went by with Simon. We didn’t meet more than once or twice a week, walking and talking, but already had a month passed. Yet it felt as if we’d known each other forever, but I guess that was just how he was. After all, he had opened up to me the first time we’d met. Now, after all this time, I was pretty sure I knew almost everything about him. That’s probably why I took it so hard when he finally said he couldn’t handle this no more. This was the end, goodbye. Have a great life and don’t worry about me. That’s what he said.

To me it was like any other Tuesday afternoon. I was at home, in my kitchen baking this time, when I got the message. “Lissy, I’m really bad today.” “Nobody cares about me, nobody loves me: I’m the one God forgot. I’m gonna do it this time.” Naturally I told him that I cared about him and that I didn’t want him to pursue with it, but it’s like when I say stuff like that, it doesn’t really count, because I “have to” say those things. Only I really don’t. Anyways, that’s what he thought and the reason why he refused to listen to me. But you know me by now: I don’t give up that easily.

And so I think I went on and on for hours, giving him reasons to stay only to have him rejecting my suggestions. Simon could be real stubborn too. Instead he tried to turn it around, convincing me that it was for my own best and that he didn’t want me to get dragged into the same darkness that ran his life. I was offended. Me, if anybody, could handle this. Like he didn’t know me at all! (I was to find out he knew me better than I knew myself, though, but that wasn’t until later.)

Eventually I ran out of words. I wanted to help him, I really did, but I had said the same things over and over again, and it didn’t seem to make any difference. I guess I couldn’t help him. After all, it was his life, and he deserved the right to do what he wanted with it. I had to accept the fact that in the end, I would have no say in that.

So I stepped back. I regretted it the second he wrote back, though. “It was nice to get to know you, goodbye.” Then Simon shut his phone off. And there I was, my heavy head in my hands, groaning at the kitchen table. But it was no use in trying to do anything else.

Days passed and I didn’t hear from Simon. It was real weird, since we’d talked every day during the time that we’d known each other. All of a sudden, he was just gone, and I had no idea whether he was alive or not. To be honest, I was worried sick. Then Saturday came, and I had received a new text. It was from Simon. Even though it pretty much was in the middle of the night, I called him right away.

Picking up the phone, his voice was trembling. Simon had had enough. He was sick of the dark thoughts, sick of the depression and sick of being alone. Even though I couldn’t understand what it was like to be him, I got it. I had seen what it had done to him, it wasn’t hard to imagine it was difficult for him.

I felt so bad for him I wanted to cry. Although, what disturbed me the most was that he kept telling me how lonely he was. I knew he wasn’t alone! Not because he had me, but because it was obvious he’d had somebody watching over him since the day he’d been born, during the shitty childhood and especially during the months he’d been on the run. Let’s just say Simon had been a little too lucky to have made it here on his own. Did you know he couldn’t swim? Yet one day, he’d reached the part of the journey where he would have to cross the stormy sea in a tiny, overcrowded rubber boat. Out on the water, the waves grew bigger and stronger, and the boat tipped over. In the middle of the storm, Simon managed to forget about the panic to remember something he’d heard when he was younger: if you fill your lungs with air, you float. That’s how Simon was one out of very few refugees to survive that night.

Still he didn’t believe there could ever be a God. He didn’t want to, after all the things he’d seen, and if there would be a God, why didn’t he put Simon in a family that loved him and gave him a happy life in a safe part of the world? I wish I had the answers of his questions, but I didn’t. Geeky as I am though, I was sure Jesus saw him, and I kept telling him that even though he’d sigh and tell me he could never believe in that. I had heard it before, how silly it is to believe in such nonsense as the Bible, and so I was kinda prepared of this kind of response. In fact, I was nearly chocked when Simon didn’t sigh or told me he could never believe. This time, he sat quiet for a second. I could hear him breathing on the other side of the cellphone. Then he said: “I want to get to know your God.”

At first I thought he was joking. SIMON, the boy who thought religion was stupid, wanted to hear about God? I guess he was willing to try anything to get better now! But I also figured he might had seen what a positive impact my relationship to Jesus had had on my life. How I could be so certain of something that doesn’t exist must have started to nag on him too.

So once again, we started meeting, walking and talking as before. I told him about “My God” and he always managed to reach the same conclusion: that it was good that I was religious but he could never believe in the things I said. Being stubborn sorta was a part of his persona, and giving in would take away his pride. Anyways, that was before he met Jesus himself, and before he no longer could say that there was no God. I suppose it’s easier to say that things don’t exist before you’ve seen them with your own eyes. ♥︎

Lissy

Just A Reminder of How Small We Are

Hey Beautifuls!

Did it ever strike you just how small we are? People, in general, really. We’re born, we work, we eat, we sleep and then one day we die. Our existence is just a fraction of the long timeline that life has lived on this earth. And me, I am just a head among the seven of billions of other individuals i this world.

2500 years ago, the Greek constructed Parthenon. By this time, a woman was soon about to give birth to Aristotle, a philosopher, physicist, biologist, rhetoric (among other things…) that we still discuss today. The Romans took over Europe, Columbus discovered America, Isaac Newton found gravity, Thomas Edison developed the light bulb, Picasso painted a famous painting, two awful world wars broke out but was also defeated, some bright soul invented the TV, Nelson Mandela fought for a society built on equality, young Malala stood up for women’s rights and female education in the Middle East and was rewarded the Nobel Peace Prize … And what did I do? Well, I could impossibly have done any of those things, right? Somebody already did!

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Look, I may not be a well known philosopher, a pioneering leader or the hero of modern time, but why would anybody expect me to be any more than who I am? God made me this way, this is where I’m supposed to be. The people I meet is exactly the ones I am ment to run into, and I have every opportunity in the world to make an impact on their lives. Anyhow, that’s what I think.

Our time here is so short we don’t even realize it. That only makes it even more important to live while you can! Take care of this short while, be where you can be and be to those you meet what you need to be. Don’t worry about living the greatest, most awesome life that looks even more so on the outside. When you’re dead, nothing will matter anyways, and no one will care about the fact that you rode a black horse all way to Cape Town (or something else you consider awesome). Aim for living a pleasant life instead, even if it feels a bit small. Honestly speaking: it is small! But as long as you have friends and family that loves you, you will be all right no matter what.

Live in the moment just where you are Beautifuls, and do what you can. ♥︎

Spread love,
Lissy

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Why God Didn’t Make Life A Bed of Roses

Hey Beautifuls!

Having a good day? So far, I am. Yesterday was not so good, though. I don’t know why, really. Just that when one thing went wrong, everything started to go wrong. Do you recognize that? Well, it is so typical. And I, who don’t know what patience is, did not see myself having time for that!

In those situations I wish it would have been different. Not different even, I want everything to be easy! Like a bed of roses, that would have been perfect. But it’s not… Life is not fair and life will not always be easy, that’s simply how it is. Well, guess what Beautiful faces: there’s a reson why God didn’t make life a bed of roses! In fact, I’ve listed twenty of them. See it for yourselves! Especially if you’re having a tough day.

If life would have been easy all way through, you would never:

  1. Learn to stand up for what you believe in
  2. Learn to fight for your goals
  3. Be able to relate to your friend’s mishap
  4. Be able to understand your friend’s sorrow
  5. Be a good listener, ever (Yeah yeah, I try to listen to things I don’t understand too, but honestly if I realize I won’t get anything of the conversation I eventually stop listening) 
  6. Know what to live for, since everything in your life would have been perfect
  7. Know what your purpose of living really is
  8. Feel like giving up, then find that invincible strength inside of you that changes everything
  9. Grow! 
  10. Learn to overcome your fears
  11. Learn to accept challenges, or to recognize the good feeling of a pat on the back when being done
  12. Become independent
  13. Learn to appreciate the good days (you wouldn’t even know what a good day is!)
  14. Get the hottie you’ve been checking out, because you wouldn’t know that as long as you don’t do anything, nothing is gonna happen
  15. Have a juicy story to seduce the hottie with
  16. Get married – you didn’t get the hottie to fall for you
  17. Be able to start a family (or well, not the traditional way) – for that you would have needed the hottie
  18. Have grandchildren – you didn’t start a family
  19. Share your experiences to the people around you – they would be too busy with spoiling their own grandchildren AND you wouldn’t have any experiences to share anyways
  20. Be happy.

Quite tragic, isn’t it? Now, maybe your life won’t seem like such a disaster? I mean seriously: is a bed of roses boring or what?

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That’s why God didn’t make life easy: it is simply for your own best. We need challenges to grow and to find willpower. We need the punches and the heartbreaks to grow, and we need the hard times to be able to appreciate the good ones. A bed of roses would never have made us the individuals we are today. A bed of roses breeds cowards and WAY less interesting people than us. Trust me, you don’t wanna be an uninteresting coward. That is like the worst of all cowards…

So Beautifuls, stay interesting! Keep fighting and keep growing. After all, that is what we’re doing here, isn’t it? Learning about life! Otherwise you’ve reached the wrong blog, honey! 😉 ♥︎

Your very own and constantly studying the motions of life,
Lissy

 

21. Be able to stand up straight. Think of the thorns….

 

Sometimes I Just Wanna Spend The Night at Home!

Hey Beautifuls!

Are you party people? Busy people? People who prefers taking their walks in the night? Or maybe people that stays home way too much to be able to actually enjoy it? Me, I am busy people. If you can’t find me at work, you’ll find me in church, and if you can’t find me in church you’ll find me at my friend’s. You might even find me on an interesting meeting about integration some place far away, but at home? Wouldn’t think so!

I obviously enjoy having plenty of things to do, but I also happen to be the kind of busy people that could use a day off some times. The problem is that whenever I get the chance to finally stay home for a day, I can’t think of anything to do… So I get bored! Thereby, I’m afraid I need to have 28 balls in the air on the same time! Otherwise I’ll just get “bored”!

But do you know what I’d really enjoy? An evening off! An evening is just the perfect amount of time where I can make myself a nice sandwich, turn on an episode of friends and just relax – without getting bored! It’s so simple, but I love it! Especially now that it’s getting dark and cold outside (at least where I live).

Something I used to do when I wouldn’t have the weekends packed with stuff is to pop some popcorn and spend the evening watching a good movie. Last week, I realized how long it had been since the last time I did that. So I saved the Friday night, watched the movie and fell in love. I really missed this.

Honestly, I don’t understand why I gotta be so busy all the time. In fact, I should do this more often. Just stay home and watch a movie with no need to worry about anyone but myself and my popcorn. That’s why I’m saying: Sometimes I just wanna spend the night at home!

And who knows? Maybe you could use a free night too? I don’t think anybody could say no to popped popcorn and a good movie. Although, to some (busy) people, it is tempting to skip the movie and do something more important instead. Well, Beautiful; don’t. You if anybody would need to unwind!

So, what are you gonna do tonight? I’m imagining you singing back to me in a choir right now. “That’s right”, is what I would tell you: Spend the night at home! ♥︎

Allow yourselves to take a break, Beautifuls!

Your one and only,
Lissy

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The Boy No One Could Help (Part Two)

Hey Beautifuls!

If you haven’t yet read the first part of the story, I’d recommend you to read THIS first. Otherwise, this would be the second part of The Boy No One Could Help: To Walk And Talk.

Part Two: To Walk And Talk

Simon and I had decided to meet in the City Park. Usually I didn’t meet with stranger guys like that, but since we’d already met once (and I’d been quite clear with the fact that I was interested in somebody else to avoid future complications if he’d for any reason develop feelings for me), I thought I’d be fine. Besides, I knew he really needed someone to walk and talk to (Simons way of putting it), and I didn’t mind being there to listen.

Walking into the park, I was nervous of course. After all, pretty much all I knew about this guy was that he could kill himself any minute. The funny thing was that from the moment we said “Hi” to each other, it wasn’t weird at all. He asked me how my day had been, I said “good” and asked about his day and he said “well, not good”… Then again, he started talking, and this time I’m sure I got to take part of his entire story.

Simon was born in Afghanistan. Shortly after his birth, his parents had run to Iran because of the war. He grew up as the eldest of three children: him, his little brother and his sister which he loved very much. Being the first born son, his parents chose to treat him differently from his siblings. If somebody did wrong, he was the one being lectured, by anything from harsh words to violent fists. It might would have been different if his father hadn’t been an alcoholic or if his mother would have had the courage to say interfere, but they were his parents. And even though he hated them, he loved them as well.

Getting older, things got more brutal at home, though. Simon decided to leave the house when his father had a final outrage on him and ended up beating Simons grandpa to death, of course blaming Simon for the incident (which Simon still believes in). He was twelve years old by that time, when he had to live on the street and when he needed to learn how to make it on his own. In waken condition fully concentrated on finding food to make it through the day, and a place to sleep to make it through the night. Eventually Simon found a place to live, at an Armenian woman’s house in exchange for labour. The Armenian woman was a business woman and owned a nice computer company in the city. There he stayed until he decided it was time to take off, and leave Iran and everything that came with it behind, for good.

The reason why Simon was talking as much as he did could easily be because I didn’t say much, but I wasn’t sure how to respond. What do you say when you hear something like that? To me, his life seemed like a movie. But I really tried to imagine what he’d gone through. Just sensing how it would feel like when your parents don’t want you and how on earth a twelve-year-old kid could be living on the street; but I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried. I could see where the darkness came from, though. Especially after hearing how his mother had called him after he’d got here to tell him they never wanted him to come back ever, AND after hearing about him meeting the love of his life (and the only one who’d bring love and happiness into this darkness) – dumping him.

In fact, (and I wasn’t surprised any longer) he had tried to suicide several times already. Every time he’d done it, somebody had managed to stop him, though. At least twice: his New Mother (as he prefers to call her); Mary (who he no longer had any contact with since he’d happen to chose his girlfriend before her…). Obviously, he hadn’t been able to pursue with her watching him. This was why his plan was to go back to Afghanistan and suicide there, where no one cared about him.

I came to hear this story many times. Every time we met, at least some part from his previous life came up. Mostly we talked about his girlfriend. To him, the break-up was the worst thing among all of his experiences that had ever happened to him, and what had hurt him the most. She was the reason why he now spent his days staring into the wall and his nights burying the pain in alcohol and cigarettes. My idea was that she was the bomb that started a series of explosions, but it didn’t really matter. He was just as ruined and depressed anyways.

Still, talking calmed him down for a bit, in comparison to the antidepressants, so we continued meeting as we did: walking and talking. Usually after discussing the “dark subjects”, we would start talking about movies or something instead. These were the moments which I really began to enjoy. Not broken-down, Simon was an amazing guy! He was nice and smart, and you could tell he had been forced to grow up at an early age judging from how experienced and intelligent he was. I had so much to learn from him! At the same time, he was a real actor that managed to make me laugh loudly and often as he made one of his many perfect impressions of Captain Jack Sparrow from the movies that he loved. Apart from that, he had an actual heart of gold. I was absolutely sure of that.

It was sad to know that a guy like him would have to be so miserable, because when we’d go our separate ways and he’d wake up the next morning, the depression would be ruling his life once again. And he would be staring into the same wall as he’d been staring into for the last couple of months. ♥︎

Lissy

How to open and de-seed a Pomegranate!

Hey Beautifuls!

Is it possible to be addicted to something as precious as pomegranates? I’ve never heard of a pomegranate-addiction before, but honestly, I think I might have one. I just love these things. They’re red, beautiful and sweet, and full of surprises inside! I am just as excited every time I’m about to open one, because you never know how many new red juice spots will be added to your kitchen!

Although (and my mom might be the most grateful to this), I recently learned how to open a pomegranate in a simpler way, AND how to get the seeds out without squeezing them! Maybe my new skills are also in your interest? I’ll share my tips below! Still I must tell you: I watched this on a youtube video! Since I wasn’t bright enough to make it up myself…

Anyways, this is how to open AND how to de-seed a pomegranate.

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Step 1: Use a knife and carefully make a long cut through the skin all around the fruit without cutting it in half. You don’t want the knife to get to the seeds.

Step 2: Get your fingers in there and split the fruit! Be careful, though, this is the messy part! After step 2, your halves should be looking like this.

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Step 3: Slightly loosen it up a little bit by pulling the edges away from the middle. Try separating the different layers from each other.

Step 4: Place one of the pomegranate halves with the open (flat) side against the palm of your hand. Then use your free hand to beat the seeds out with a ladle or a wooden spoon (this part may also be a bit messy). A smart idea is to put a bowl under the pomegranate for the seeds to fall into.

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Voila, there you go! You’ve successfully opened and de-seeded the pomegranate! Don’t worry if you didn’t get my perfectly detailed and patient guidance, youtube is full of clever tips!

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Maybe you don’t have an addiction to pomegranates (yet), but if you ever come in contact with these pretty things, I hope this post have been useful to you! ♥︎

Take care!
Lissy

Your Hair – The Worst Enemy of Them All

Hey Beautifuls!

Scary, isn’t it? That what is actually growing on your head is also what you should fear the most? Or maybe it’s only scary because you have no idea of what the heck I’m talking about? Sorry for that… I’ll explain my point!

When my best friend was twelve, she was probably the shyest twelve-year-old in the country. In fact, she was so shy it eventually made her decide to turn her life completely in-side-out. So one day, she said: “the end with hunching, the end with keeping your mouth shut and the end with hiding behind your hair!” Do you know what she did? She straightened up, started talking and cut her hair short. The last one must have been the hardest to go through with. She had gorgeous hair! Although it was also the one that appeared to be the most efficient way to go. Suddenly she had nothing to hide behind anymore. She had to face her fears, which made her the person she is today.

I keep marveling at how brave she was doing such a thing. I don’t consider myself particularly insecure, but it would take lots of guts of me to do the same thing. I mean, I like my hair! I think it suits me and I feel pretty letting it hang over my shoulders. Cutting it off actually would make me way more uncomfortable being around people than at the moment. Isn’t that funny? I’m only confident as long as I have my hair. That is why I don’t think that the security only was in my friend’s hair; but in all of our hairs!

Agree with me or don’t, but I think it’s true. Changing hairstyles is not only about trying a new look – it’s about breaking comfort zones! I have friends who tend to dye their hair, variate lengths, try bangs or shave one part of their head, and to be honest – they are more comfortable with stepping outside of their bubbles than, let’s say: me. I like trying new things as well, but when it comes to leaving my comfort zone, I’m more tempted to chicken out than to pursue with it. If I were forced to face my fears, like my friend who didn’t have anything to hide behind anymore (and I would change my hairstyle more than just cutting the edges), I think I’d actually be more self-confident! And real confidence should come from inside of you. It shouldn’t be in your hair!

So Beautifuls, if you think you might be like me, maybe you should make a bet with yourself and do as my friend did: change it. Cut it off! When you’ll be able to pull off any hairstyle, no one could ever defeat you!

Of course, you’d better want to change it a little bit too… Well, think about it! I’m sure I will.

Now have an amazing weekend you beautiful creatures! ♥︎

Yours Truthfully,
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The Boy No One Could Help (Part One)

Hey Beautifuls,

Every Thursday for five weeks now, I’m going to release one new part of a story from my own life that came to have a great impact on me. The story is about Simon, a guy I got to know a while ago (don’t worry, you will find out who he is). Before you continue reading I want to give you a heads-up if you’re sensitive, though. The story could get pretty heavy. However, I made it through and so should you.

I’m going to do my best to give you an idea of my relationship with Simon as similar to mine as possible. Below you find the first part of the story: The Boy No One Could Help. I hope you find it interesting!

 

Part One: When I First Met Simon

Some time ago, a friend of mine asked me if I knew any available apartments in the city. A friend to him was looking for a new accommodation, and I promised to help. Finding nothing, I felt like I needed to turn to this friend of my friend that was looking for the apartment and tell him I hadn’t found anything. In 30 seconds he had already answered: “It’s okay, I found one last week.” I was happy to hear that. As a goodbye, I told him that I was glad for him and that maybe we’ll meet some time. In my world, that was more of a polite way to end a conversation than a suggestion of us actually meeting, but Simon interpreted it differently: “Really? It would be so nice to meet you! I don’t go out very much and I don’t have that many friends.”

Well, I have a heart, so I couldn’t exactly turn him down. Although, I didn’t feel like meeting a foreign guy alone just like that, so I invited him to come to church. You see, every once a week, my church were arranging language studies for newcomers. This time, I thought that would be perfectly suitable.

If you ever have met young men from the middle east, you probably know that they generally aren’t too tall. Actually, comparing them to men where I live, they’re rather small – but not Simon. Don’t get me wrong, Simon was not fat. He was just bigger than I was used to. His self-confidence didn’t quite match, though. Luckily, he had told me he was a bit shy before we met so that I didn’t need to expect anything else from him.

I went to welcome him at the entrance. He knew it was me. I invited him to play cards with me and my friends, which he objected to at first, but eventually we all sat down. He didn’t say much, so it was a little awkward, but I figured we would get over it soon. A few rounds, and then we’d all be like friends! No? Unfortunately, it didn’t quite work out as I had hoped. The more people (not to say children) filled the church, the noisier it got, and before I knew it Simon had raised from his chair. “I’m going to the room over there”, he said. “I think it’s more quiet there”.

I thought I lost him. He was bored and he regretted that he had decided to come, and I was the one who had told him that it would be fun. The least I could do was to come after him and see if he was okay, so I did. I found him in the corner of the couch in the mentioned room where he sat on his own watching some other guys playing pool. I sat down next to him, and all of a sudden he started talking. In fact, that was the moment I realized that Simon was a real chatterbox. He just talked and talked, about his life in the past and about plans in the future. I felt like he told me everything. It was not like anything I’d heard before, though. Most people I knew were dreaming about traveling, starting college and getting an own apartment or a nice job where they could make tons of money. But not Simon. He had only one thing in mind that he knew that he wanted to do for sure. That was to return to his home country and kill himself. You see, Simon was sick of this life, and not like you hear people around you complaining over their sucky lives that actually aren’t as bad as they make it sound. Simon was REAL sick of living. And he was gonna end it, as soon as he had the chance.

I had struggled with those things before. Not that I’d had suicidal thoughts myself, but it was not the first time I heard someone I knew wanting to leave this planet. Difficult is not enough to describe how it is to try to get somebody change their mind about it. It’s like whatever I say, it’s not something that they haven’t heard before. They have the answers prepared already: “It won’t get better”, “It’s not worth trying” “Nobody wants me here, I will always be a left out!” But I don’t have anything else to say either, so I always feel like it’s worth giving it a shot. Simon would never buy that, though, I could see that. I had never met anyone as ruined as him before.

Nor had I met anyone as lonely as Simon before. He didn’t have any friends, and he nearly didn’t meet any people at all since the depression made it impossible for him to go to school. He pretty much sat at home starring into his wall, as he expressed it, day in and day out. And in the night, as he couldn’t sleep, he’d go out to forget about the misery for a few hours as the alcohol would sweep his memories away. The memories from a previous life had truly started to haunt him, now that he had so much time to think. What I noted was that while talking to me, he seemed to forget about all that for a while, though. What if he just needed to talk?

Apparently, again I thought it was worth giving it a shot. Before we left the couch and said goodbye that afternoon, Simon and I had decided to meet and go for a walk some time, which eventually turned into a routine. I didn’t mind, though. If a few hours a week of my time would make Simons life just a little bit better, I thought it was the right thing to do. Besides, who was I if I couldn’t even spend one or two afternoons a week to take a walk?

What I didn’t know was that these “walks” would come to affect me more than I first was willing to believe, and that I actually only was making Simons life worse. ♥︎

Lissy