Mr. Z

Sooo... he didn't punch me in the face today.
Instead this 14 year old boy, who thinks of himself as a 14 year old man, was attempting to jump through the cracks that most students slip into due to some flaw in a failing school system.
Sooo... he didn't punch me in the face today.
Sure, I pushed him, I wanted him to know that another one of us was not going to give up on him. I was not simply going to hand him a noose and remove myself.
Sooo... he didn't punch me in the face today.
He stormed back and forth, flinging out his limbs to hit anything he could in an effort to numb these external sensations, these burdening situations.
Sooo... he didn't punch me in the face today.
I felt my cheeks heating up and my skin changing color as it tends to do when I am anything but sleeping, as he ordered me to "get the FUCK out of his way". As he told me, "the only other person in the world (he) wouldn't be beating the SHIT out of right now is (his) mom".
Sooo... he didn't punch me in the face today.
I disconnected. I couldn't handle it. I'm too young. I don't know how to deal. I don't know how to expect him to deal. I kind of wish he did punch me in the face. I wish I could understand the complexities.
Sooo... he didn't punch me in the face today.
But if not me, who?
Sooo... he didn't punch me in the face today.
On this kid's roller coaster ride, I'm now more than ever securely strapped in. Maybe not, front-most, center-most, but watching his back from the last row. Keeping him as safe as I can without pushing us both off of the tracks.
Sooo... he didn't punch me in the face today.
But tomorrow.

Daily Hero: my amazing wonderful intuitive school team.