The Quiet One

She sat there behind her desk, looking at me, the teacher…

The Quiet One, I knew her well, we had had these discussions many, many times…

Saying nothing to each other.

“So, do you want to tell me about it now?”

She shook her head… Of course, not…

The Quiet One has so much going on in her head, that she cannot talk…

Unless she trusts you… Unless you are her friend… Then she hardly ever stops talking…

She’s funny and smart and full of stories and jokes and facts and memories…

But she only has one friend… And it is not me…

She’ll never ask for help… Even though I know she needs it…

She’d sooner die than talk about what is really bothering her…

And I know what it is… And it breaks my heart that I can’t help her…

I write her a sticky note. “I love you. I will help you if you need me to.“

I push the note in front of her. She reads it.

She looks up at me. A shy smile. “I know, but it’s okay.”

I have to hold back tears. I know she will face it alone.

I know because I was once the Quiet One too.