Lost But Never Alone
"I really don't need to be here, you know," I told the dreary beige walls and
disgustingly clashing deep purple chairs for the fourth time. If anyone had seen
me right now, I am sure they would have disagreed. However, this was not me! I
don't need to see some middle age woman who thinks she can understand me.
I'm NOT CRAZY!
Oh god here she comes. Same as all the rest of them. Old. Ugly. Dirty. Nothing
like me, so how in the world could she understand me?
Maybe I should have started by explaining me a little bit. My names Louisa, I'm
17, a straight A student, and right now I'm waiting for this old woman to
introduce herself as my new psychologist.
I'm not actually crazy; I don't need to be here. But ever since my dense over-
caring mother thought I was going to be forever insane she has put me through
these tedious meetings, which cost her a fortune! Every time she arranges a new
appointment with these people I make it a point to tell them as little as possible
just to spite her.
Oh here we go the whole "It must have been hard for you to loose someone you
were so close to at such a young age" speech. Oh come on! Get something
original, please. Just for once I would like someone to just ask me what I want
to talk about, maybe if they were closer to my age I might just respond but with
queues of old loopy doctors trying to fix me I just cant be bothered with them
Yeah it was tough when I lost my Michael, we were both just 13 when we met, he
was my first proper boyfriend and it was so fun and exciting, until we found out
about the tumour, and of course it was hard, but we dealt with it. Nothing
changed between us, we were "Lou Lou and Mike' the sweetest couple in town.
I visited him every single day he was in hospital. I was round his house every day
after school. I stayed over every weekend. Only going home when I was
desperate for necessities. I defended him, whenever anyone was horrible about
him at school we had all the rumours; he was in jail or he was just bunking or he
didn't care about anything so he didn't come to school or even he had "topped
himself' " that one was hard to deal with.
I threw him the best birthday anyone had ever had; it took a long time to plan. I
got all his family over from Ireland and America, he was so delighted, he was
happy everyday. Even though we all knew he would never make it we hoped with
all our hearts that he would last for years. He had been the sweetest guy in the
world while he was in that too clean, depressing hospital, he would always be
asking everyone if they were ok, typical mike even when he knows that he might
not have long left he put himself last. His birthday was one of the happiest days
of my life.
We ended up losing him to the cancer six short days after his 14th birthday. It
was the worst day of my life. I don't think there will be any pain that was, or will
ever be as grim as that. It hurt. A lot. I still miss him. Everyday I think about
him and just wish it was someone else who had to die, someone who had lived a
bit, nobody deserves to die that young no matter what they had done.
I had gone a whole year without telling anyone in my family about what had
happened, of course they had to have suspected something, what with him never
coming round anymore. They just thought we had split up. I wish that were all.
All my friends obviously knew, they all were told in a special assembly dedicated
to him. I got so much sympathy after that. I didn't want it though. I just wanted
to be alone, away from all the mess, away from the pain.
I gave up everything I loved. After all I had lost the one thing I loved the most,
what was the point without him here to enjoy it with me. I now know this was
probably the worst thing to do. I just didn't care anymore. There was nothing
keeping me around. I ran away. My mum always caught me; I would come up with
the most stupid reasons for doing it. "I'm sorry mum but I thought if I ran away,
I wouldn't have to clean my room" or some other dimwitted excuse that my
mother always believed.
I started drinking as well. Heavily. I made friends with people who were about
three, maybe four years older then me; they didn't mind me hanging around.
They even offered me drugs at some points. I accepted these as well. Anything
that would make me forget, I took without asking. That was the most moronic
idea I ever had.
I bet your wondering what mad me change everything" now this bit is going to
sound the most moronic. I was just sitting in my room a few months after, I
suppose you could call it the breakdown, I was off my head. Somehow still
managing to cry my eyes out, just like any other day. But then I saw something,
this is the loopy bit, it looked just like Michael, except he was a lot paler and
when I tried to reach out to him it was like there was noting there.
We sat for what feels like forever, just staring at each other, it was the closest
I've been to happy in a long time. Then I heard his voice in my mind, as if he was
whispering right into my brain, he said he was disappointed in me, that I had
broken every promise I had made to him. That was hell, right in the middle of
I didn't understand why he was saying these things to me; I didn't remember all
my promises, which just made me, cry even more. But then that's all what was in
my mind, his voice telling me over and over to make sure when he's gone I'll look
after myself, keep his memory happy and don't be sad. "I'll always be there with
you" he had whispered on his last day "Don't ever forget what we had but try to
forget these last days" I remember saying I would. I remember promising him.
From that point on I started trying to change. I started trying to heal. It
started small. I told my friends I could hang around with them anymore. I
needed to be a better person. I needed to make things right. They laughed at
me first, they didn't believe me.
After that I decided it was the right time to tell my mum what had really
happened 11 months and 4 days ago. She was so shocked at first that she didn't
believe me I had to call up mikes mum and get her to prove it. I'm sorry I did
that; it must have been very difficult for her and the family. I should have
found a different way. But I know that's the only way my mother would believe
me these days.
She tried so many different tactics to try to get more information to help me. I
knew she couldn't though. She had never lost somebody she loved. She had never
And that's somewhat how I ended up here, with my 27th councillor. Talking at me
on how I should have told someone earlier. How keeping things bottled up would
only end up with me going into depression again. Even though I had never said a
word during my sessions. What was the point; I had the best way anyone could
have wished for to keep my life straight.
I had my angel.
I had my Mike.