Advanced Essay #1: Can we really help someone who is in pain?


Goals that I had for my paper was to really be able to include all the components into my story effectively and evenly. And to have a balance of everything, the descriptive scenes, reflection, and large idea. I think that parts that I am most proud of would be the whole process of editing and revising my essay. It really changed the whole flow of my essay from the beginning and I think that the improvements that I made, really helped convey my message. Some areas for improvement for the future would have to be to decrease the amount of words that I wrote. I wrote a lot and at first I had 2000 words and I erased and changed it until 1000 and even though it’s way more than the maximum, I still need to improve on this.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t do anything right. Being silent and listening was all that I could ever do. The pain ached from the inside and out, puncturing holes into my heart. The feeling of remorse and sorrow poured out of my body out in the form of tears. I remember that heartstopping moment, it felt like my whole world was getting flipped and tossed around.

I was in history class when I got the text from my best friend, Michelle.

“I can’t stop shaking.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”  I started typing at soaring speed.

“I can’t talk right now.” She texted back.

But I was persistent on getting a response. As time passed, I felt myself sink down lower into my seat.

My thoughts started a violent and gory war in my head, the sword were her words that cut me and the blood were the tears that followed. My eyes stayed glued to my phone.

My friends noticed how I was behaving. They fed me the words that were meant to comfort. I could see the disappointment on their faces when I would look up and ignore them.

“Tell us what’s wrong,”

“What happened?”

“Please tell us.”

Their words went in through one ear and out through the other. I sat there with my thoughts, what should I do if it’s something bad? Am I really her best friend if I can’t help her? I saw my phone flickered on.

“My baby cousin…. my mom called me,” She paused between texts,“H- he’s dead...”

I felt my whole body slowly close in on itself. My jaw dropped and the tears followed and fell down my face with no control. I ran out the door of my class and straight into the bathroom.

I called her and she picked up right away.

“Michelle… Are you okay? I  am so so sorry. How did it happen?” I said, as I thought to myself, should I have not asked how it happened?

“I can’t do this right now.” She said, I could hear that she was crying uncontrollably.

I heard knocks on the bathroom door knowing that it was my friends that ran after me. They were calling my name and telling me to come out. But I ignored them once again.

I knew that whatever I would say to her right now wouldn’t be helpful. It would just be a bunch of words that mean nothing. I gave her as much time as she needed to explain everything. As I sat on the window sill, listening to my best friend and crying.

She was feeling useless as much as I was. Feeling powerless to do anything to help destroys and destructs you from inside out. You feel this automatic anger and hate yourself because you’re not doing your best. You start to shut out everyone who cares about you and start to isolate yourself from who is “trying to help.” The worst part is not understanding and lying. Simply saying the words, “I understand what you’re going through,” can deepen the pain and agony of the person even more. They know that you don’t understand and you’re left with no other option. Can anyone really ever help anyone that is suffering?

No matter what age I was, I found myself in these moments. As a young girl, I wasn’t aware of everything happening around me but I noticed when someone looked upset, or  looked like they were in pain. Like in the sixth grade with my bestfriend, Lyna.

I’ve only known her for 2 years back then, but I knew that the second I met her, she would be one of those friends that I would grow old with. We made plans to be roommates in college together, to share every detail of each other’s lives together, and to dance until we can’t anymore. This seemed like the year where everything would start changing. In the eyes of Lyna, it was a different change, the type that would change her life forever and she wasn’t ready for it.

“I think they’re separating.” Lyna said one day when she walked up to me during breakfast.

“Separating what?” I said, completely clueless.

“Mom and dad. They’re not happy.” She said looking around, hoping no one else was listening.

Not happy? I would think to myself, I’ve never heard of a separation of parents or loved ones, aside from the movies. My mind was glued to the idea that families stick together and love each other endlessly no matter what. “For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health..” I truly believed that this was always the case. I told her that her parents love each other very much and nothing will happen. But who was I to tell her that it was going to be okay when I didn't even know myself?

“They aren't the same. They're fighting every single day.” She said to me, as a single tear would run down her face.

“But that doesn't mean anything does it? Parents always fight.” I said with a hopeful tone.

She looked away, disappointed and said with her head down,

“You won't understand anyway. Your family is perfect.”

Perfect? What am I supposed to do with that? My family for one is not perfect. I told her the words that I regretted the second I said it.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Almost everyday, Lyna would come up to me in school with an update about her parents. I would listen but not understand, yet I still tried to. This went on for a few more years until it finally happened, the fear that she grew up with, the nightmares that she wished never came true, did. She was my best friend, she couldn’t do this alone, and she wasn’t alone. Although I thought that all this time, I wasn’t helping, I was wrong. The attempt of trying to help and comfort goes a long way. Having the intentions of extending out a helping hand, the act of doing so makes all the difference. You can never fully cure that damage within but you can apply the bandage and cure it slowly.