I always watched you smoking at a distance. You always looked sad and stressed, as if life were just a prison for you. I could see that you were hurting but then again, so was I. I could tell that you felt like no one cared about how your life went. You never saw the girl who was sitting, thinking only of how she could help. I tried to figure out your problems, but you never told me.
Then one day you looked at me with so much regret in your eyes that it broke my heart. You knew you had done wrong and that I had every right to call the police. You knew you had lost every chance of ever becoming anything to me. You must have realized that the weed wouldn't help because you didn't get high. Then I thought I saw your name scribbled out on the bench..the names of all your friends glaring in black...yours a scribbled line. I didn't know what you had done....Because you never told me.
Maybe I will see you in a few years. Maybe you will have found professional help....maybe you are still on the drugs. But either way, I could have helped, I would have been willing to. But you never told me. You never told anyone.