Vexed

Today in math class, I was there early (as most squares are) and waiting for the professor/rest of the class to arrive.

In the desk to my left, there's a guy named Lance who sits there. He's not gay (contrary to his name being Lance) and we don't ever really talk, but our professor is a really goofy guy so we always grin at each other and roll our eyes. We share pencils and calculators occasionally. Neither one of us are very talkative anyway.
We have a very non-verbal, close relationship. ;) I like to think that because he is just SO cute.

Okay so today Lance comes into class. He sits down very slowly. His face is twisted in pain. He finally comes to a seated position and tries to straighten himself.
He's wincing and holding his lower back with both hands.

It's kind of awkward, but also scary for me to watch. When we make eye contact, I asked him, "Uh...are you okay?"

He nods, but is still holding his lower back and making faces that indicate pain. "My back just hurts."

and I say "Oh geez...I'm sorry."

after a second I ask- "What happened?"

He says "Oh...my mom's boyfriend...." and trails off.

At this point I am confused, but utterly concerned. Because he doesn't look like the kind of guy who would ever be in real pain. He doesn't look like a guy who can be easily beat up. He's tall and toned. So whoever did this had to be pretty brutal, which is scary to think about too.

I say, "So did you call the cops?"

Suddenly, his pained expression is gone and he smiles and says "no," like it was a naive question.


Maybe it was.


What I realized tonight is that I really don't know what goes on everywhere. I really don't know the way that some people live. I don't know the complications of Lance's situation.
And yet I try and identify.
Hell, I try and write stories.
But I am a sheltered kid from a small town.

I asked him if he wanted any advil and he said no thanks. Probably another naive question.

I am one of the most empathetic people I know. When I was a kid, I'd cry about this Hallmark commercial about an old lady who never got any mail.

Sitting in class, I wanted to cry.

I don't have a right to, most likely. My compassion doesn't do any good for people. But our minute long conversation made me feel sick to my stomach. MY back started hurting. I couldn't concentrate in class.

In one class period, a casual classmate became someone I love.
And I hate that.
I hate that I so easily love people and hurt for people.
It sets me up for so much drama and heartbreak.

Now that I know this about Lance, this class is totally different for me.

And what sucks the most is that I can't do anything to help.