In a small grey room, a boy sobbed quietly, looking out of the window from his bed. His knees were held tight to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. Tears trickled from his eyes cutting a steady stream down his cheeks. He stretched out his legs and lay face down, pushing his face into his pillow so that all that could be seen of his head was the thick black mop of his hair.
“Why do I have to be like this?” he muttered. “What are the rules? When do I speak? What do I say?”
I can help, came a small voice from nowhere.
The boy turned his face out from his pillow, laying his ear in the damp puddle his tears had made.
“Who’s there!” he said.
It’s hard to explain said the voice. I’m kind of you.
“You’re kind of me?”
Yes
Are you in my head?
Yes, said the voice, calmly. I’m your inner child
“Can you come out?”
That’s what I want to talk to you about.
“You can come out,” said the boy, sitting up and wiping his nose on his arm.
It’s not that simple, said the voice softly. If I come out. You’ll stop feeling. Do you want that?
“I’ll stop feeling?” said the boy, confused.
Yes.
“You mean I wouldn’t feel sad? That would be nice. Just for a little bit. And then we can talk for real. You can be my friend.”
I’d like that. But remember, you won’t feel anything. You won’t feel happy either. And maybe you won’t want to be my friend.
The boy thought a moment about this.
“No,” he said. “I think I’ll still want to be your friend. You helped me. That means we’re friends. And anyway, if I don’t want to be your friend then you can go back in and I’ll feel again.”
If that’s your choice, said the voice, assuredly.
The voice went quiet and the boy heard a shuffling inside his ear. Then there was a pop and the boy became numb.
“Look down,” came the voice.
In front of his eyes, stood an even smaller boy, the size of the boy’s finger nail. He looked exactly like the boy except for his eyes. Instead of eyes there were two indents like sinkholes in his skin.
“Where are your eyes?” asked the boy.
“I don’t have any. I don’t need them. Usually, I see through yours.”
“Even now?”
“Even now. So, I must stay close to you if I’m to see where I’m going.” The smaller boy looked up at his larger counterpart, and then continued. “You’ve been sad for a long time. I don’t want you to be sad forever. There are other experiences to be had. Things that I know you want to do. You need to grow.”
“I know” said the boy, flatly. “But I don’t know how to. I don’t know how to make friends, or to talk to others. I don’t know how to be. I just stare and wonder.”
“Then I will do it for you,” said the smaller boy. “I will make you more friends than you can ever imagine. It will take time. And I will need to return to your ear on a regular basis so you may have to feel sad in the meantime. But I will make you friends. I promise.”
The boy stared on blankly. “Your no-eyes are becoming dry,” he said finally. “You’d better come back inside.”
“Yes, that’s going to be a problem too,” said the miniature boy. “If I stay much longer out all of me will begin to dry. We’re going to need to find a way to fix that.”
And with that he climbed onto the boy’s hand and was swiftly lifted up to his ear. He climbed into the dark cavern. Feeling his way, with little real idea of where he was going.
Suddenly the boy felt a pop, and he once more felt the weight of his worries wash over him. He let out a long drawn out sigh and began to cry once again.
Don’t worry, came the voice of his inner child from nowhere again. I will make things better soon. I will be who you want us to be.
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