Love You From The Bottom Of My Heart


Love You From The Bottom Of My Heart


Love You From The Bottom Of My Heart

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You can’t imagine how it feels when you’re standing on your own and the first time someone takes a real interest in you is by taking pity.

I’ve never been able to understand people who are so quick to offer sympathy as some kind of charity or gift, but I was certainly one of those until now. It’s only that my situation has changed. If this hadn’t happened, I’d probably still be waiting for someone to show me they cared.

But it did happen. And he didn’t have to do any of these things. They were his way of showing love without saying anything at all. I’m going to take them with gratitude, although I’ll make sure not to become too dependent.

The truth is, we’ve known each other less than ten days and there’s already no end to our differences. We come from different worlds, and though we share the same name and profession, we don’t even look remotely alike. He comes from another world entirely, one where they wear suits and carry briefcases, not leather jackets over their shoulders.

He knows nothing about what goes on in this one, yet he cares enough to put himself out for me. That’s something that shouldn’t be taken lightly because it isn’t easy to live up to such a commitment—or cumbersomeness.

But I know that he means well. He might be from a whole other culture, but he’s got my back and I’ll do everything in my power to see him through it. I think that’s what love really is: a bond between two different worlds created solely for the sake of making the person you love happy.

Love isn’t just words, it’s actions. And if he’s willing to take the time out of his day to help me, then I’ll make sure to do whatever it takes to repay him. Because after all, he saved me.

And I’ve never felt safer than I did when he was around. He’s like an angel that came down here, and though I’m not religious myself, it seems clear to me that angels walk among us, even if it takes someone being born into poverty to see them.

That’s how much I value my new friends, my guardian angels, whoever and wherever they may be.

***

You Can Do Something About It

“So you want me to go with the flow?” I asked as soon as we walked out of the elevator on floor forty-four. “Are you telling me not to try and do anything? Not to make plans, set goals, get involved in a relationship?”

“No, of course not!” The young man was clearly flustered, as though I had offended him. Or maybe he’d been hoping to hear more than that and found my answers lacking.

It would have surprised me if he had said, ‘Yes,’ so instead, he turned around and went upstairs again without even saying goodbye.

This was the very moment I realized that I should have gone with him. I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been; all I wanted to do was follow him upstairs so I could find out where he was heading, and why he was so anxious about meeting me.

All of which led me to believe that he knew exactly what I’d planned to say. Maybe we were talking about the same thing or maybe one of us was wrong, but either way, I was going to ask him straight away.

It wasn’t as though anything bad could happen. If he had information for me and I decided not to use it, that’s fine. After all, I’ve got all the time in the world and can afford to wait. What difference does one more day make?

As long as I’m doing my best to make the most of my life.

There’s only one thing I need to decide before we leave here. When we get to the front door, I’ll either turn left, where there’s no security check or metal detector, or right where there is.

My decision depends entirely on whether or not I’ll be allowed to take the stairs back down to the lobby without having to go through security again. I hope they won’t stop me, because if that happens, then I’ll have to go outside and take the elevator from there. Either way, I’m walking back home today. There’s no turning back.

When I get to the front desk, I’ll explain to the guy that I’d like to speak to Mr. Jardine and that I’ll wait in his office while he talks with me. That way, I’ve already made the excuse beforehand so we’ll avoid any awkwardness.

I feel like the whole thing will go perfectly smooth and we’ll be laughing over a coffee within ten minutes.

After all, we both know what we’re getting into. No need to waste time trying to talk things through, let’s just get it done.

A few months ago, I’d never have believed this would be possible. But I’ve learned a lot since coming here. I’ve discovered many ways to survive in the midst of the worst of circumstances, so if I can do it, anyone can do it.

***

The Elevator

They call it The Elevator now. They call it that because it moves so quickly and effortlessly that it gives me the impression of riding in a car at high speeds. And it feels safe, almost as though it has an internal alarm system protecting us from harm. As though it knows that the people inside are going places and need to keep us safe because it’s got our backs. It’s got mine.

It feels so good to finally ride in something like this again.

We’re on floor thirty-eight. We were told that the first half hour is free, so we’ve been taking it slow, watching the numbers pass by until we reached twenty floors. Now we’re moving faster, going up in increments of five each time. Soon enough, we’ll be at the top, and I wonder if there’s some sort of celebration planned for the occasion.

Maybe there will be a ribbon-cutting ceremony, followed by champagne.

I wonder what the people who work here think about the elevators? It makes sense that they would love them, seeing as they’re probably the most important part of the building. And if I were working here, I would certainly appreciate being able to take such fast rides every morning when everyone else is still waiting in line at the front doors.

But there’s always someone willing to do more than others and take advantage of things. I suppose that’s why people like myself exist. You see, I don’t care that there are rules. I have no interest in following them or playing nice with other people’s agendas.

Rules mean nothing to me; they’re just guidelines created by someone who thought that their life would be easier if people obeyed a certain set of regulations. Well, guess what? Their lives are harder than they ever imagined because those of us who don’t give a shit about the rules are too busy enjoying our own lives to worry about yours.

I’ve learned to live freely and without remorse. And I’ll teach you how to do the same.

I’ve lived in three countries now and know dozens upon dozens of different languages and dialects; the truth is, I’ve forgotten most of them except the ones I’ve picked up along the way. People often tell me that my accent sounds vaguely Australian, which makes sense considering the amount of time I’ve spent down under and all of Australia’s influence, but the truth is that there’s only one country that I really miss.

Australia may be a continent away, but I’m still an Aussie at heart. This morning when I woke up, I was dreaming about lying on the beach. I had the sun beating down on my skin, and the sea water splashing onto my legs as I played in the waves.

The sound of the surf, the sand between my toes, the warm breeze blowing across the beach… it reminded me of everything I love about summer and living on the coast of New South Wales. If only I could go back. I’ve missed it so much.

But then suddenly, I remembered that I’m far more than just an Aussie.

You wouldn’t believe what’s happened since the day I arrived in the US. I’ve changed my name, shaved off my hair, learned to walk upright, started wearing clothing, adopted a new language, found a job, bought a house, and learned to drive.

Most importantly, I’ve learned to trust my instincts and follow my own path. All of these steps took time and patience, but they didn’t come easy; instead, I had to be relentless in order to survive.

And while it was difficult, I’m grateful for each step taken. Without any of them, I’d still be stuck where I’d begun—a broken boy in a foreign land.

Now I’m not so sure where exactly “here” is anymore. The elevator feels strange to me. The walls are white and smooth, and it feels strangely sterile and clinical. There are no corners, and the ceiling is low enough so that everyone is forced to stand close together.

And the light fixtures are spaced evenly around the room. It’s a very open space, and while it’s spacious, the lack of natural lighting makes it feel cold and unwelcoming. I can hear someone screaming ahead of us somewhere in the distance. It doesn’t bother me, although it’s strange that we’ve yet to reach the top of this skyscraper.

This place isn’t like the others that we’ve seen so far. It’s not as bright, and the air has a faint metallic smell. I wonder how many stories we’ve gone up by now. It shouldn’t take too long to get to the top if all the elevators run in a circular pattern like the rest.

As far as we know, there aren’t any stairs or ladders to climb. Maybe this thing goes straight to the rooftop, and we’ll be meeting up with friends soon? But even though I’m curious to find out where we’re going, it seems that I’m not alone in my thoughts.

“What if we can’t get out?” asks Lacy, holding her hand above her eyes to shield herself from the harsh white glare. She’s wearing a simple blue sundress and sandals, and she looks pretty and fragile as she holds tightly to my arm.

We haven’t talked much lately, and neither one of us seem eager to do so now. We both just want to sit quietly on this ride until we’re dropped off wherever we’re supposed to be.

She glances over at me and nods, and I know by the look in her eyes what she wants to say but doesn’t dare utter aloud: “Will you help me?”

It’s always been a game between us. Whenever Lacey says something, the other one has to answer first. I don’t mind answering her questions, especially because sometimes I have to think hard to come up with a good response. When it comes to the truth, I tend to keep my mouth shut unless I can’t hold my silence any longer.

Lacy is also a great listener. In fact, she knows me better than anyone else. She’s been through it all with me and understands how painful my past can be. She doesn’t judge me and accepts me for who I am, regardless of anything I may or may not choose to share.

I’ve already decided that I won’t let her go back home. I’ve tried countless times, but I couldn’t let her leave and lose another piece of my soul. No matter what happens, I’ll never let her go again.

The doors slide open silently, and our footsteps echo down the hallways of a new building.

When I see the people waiting outside on the sidewalk, they all start running towards us and shouting at once. They seem confused and anxious, and they all point upward as they race toward us.

They’ve got us surrounded.

The End

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