The Internet is a strange and chaotic entity.  It is somewhat like our Repository, but not complete, and so unorganized!  Millions of minds expressing thoughts that frequently contradict one another; facts getting confused with opinions and misinformation and outright lies, and all tangled up with the power of human emotion, for better or for worse.  Strange indeed, and I could not even begin to express how to manage such a thing.

It was ambitious of me, then, to support my charges in their work on the Internet.  Still, I thought that they had a good idea, and to insert positivity into any negative place acts like light in the darkness—no matter how small the light or how great the darkness, the light will always be seen in time.

The website that Mary and her friends have started went live earlier this week.  They have put a great deal of work into it in the past few weeks, gathering sources, purchasing a domain (an oddly appropriate way of describing one’s location in this massive scramble of word and thought), and organizing it all so that it will look professional.  For all that, it is a very simple site.  The first page is just a field of blue, holding a few lines in white.

Life is a struggle, says the first line, the deceptively simple beginning that actually involved days of argument with the four administrators.  The next line was easier for them: But you’re not alone, it says.  Below that, there are three options, all of which can be clicked on.  The first says, Talk it out, and it leads to a chat room where users can discuss whatever they like.  The second says, Talk to me, and this is a one-on-one chat, which promises that someone will be available to talk within eight hours of the first post.  The third simply says, Help.  It leads to a list of resources vetted by my young charges, including suicide hotlines, information on managing anxiety and depression, and a few other things.

Nadia has been in charge of this section, and despite her busy schedule she has put her heart into it, looking into each proposed resource and judging it strictly for its helpfulness.  Natalie and Aaron have been the builders, setting up the links and the walls.  As for Mary, her part was to come later—she will be the one who is available on the chat most of the time, ready to talk to anyone who has come.

But the site went live three days ago, and despite numerous flyers scattered throughout the school and the website written on the mirrors of every bathroom, the site has sat in silence.  There have been visits, of course, which Aaron can see, but no one has taken advantage of the chat.

“It’s a dud,” Natalie said this afternoon.

“No, it’ll just take time,” Nadia said.  They were gathered at her house, since she is the only one who has no siblings and parents who work late.

Mary clicked despondently from the home page to the empty chat room.  A lone question, What do you want to talk about? sat at the top of a blank screen.

What she did not want to say, or even really think about, was that no one wanted this service that they had been so eager to offer.  That they had wasted their efforts, that life was not a struggle for anyone but them.

“That is not true,” I whispered to her.  “You thought you were completely alone before, and you were wrong then.  Look.”

She lifted her head and looked around the room—Nadia sprawled on her bed next to Natalie, both of them looking at a laptop, while Aaron, whose black clothing looked out of place in Nadia’s brightly colored bedroom, played around on his phone.

“It is difficult to begin a conversation,” I reminded her, “especially one like this.”

That gave her an idea.  She turned her chair back to Natalie’s desktop computer and typed into the box at the top, cutting.

“What are you doing?” Aaron asked.

The site was meant to suggest a few conversations about this subject, but since there were no conversations, it invited her to begin a new one.  She did so, bringing her to a new page, before looking back at the others.  “It’s all anonymous right?  So we should start up a conversation ourselves.  It’ll be easier for other people to join in than for them to start a whole new conversation.”

Natalie sat up, pulling the laptop close.  “Good idea.  And it’ll give people a chance to see how the site works.”

Aaron slid closer to Natalie.  “Go ahead, Mary.  Nat, can you see if anyone’s online?”

While the others looked into that, Mary turned back to the conversation.  She thought for a moment, then she typed, Does cutting really help?

When she hit “enter,” the line appeared next to her screenname, SisterMewMew79.  The rest of the room went quiet, and Mary hunched her shoulders, not looking back.

Then keys hammered, and another line appeared below it next to the name CoquetteNut, which means Natalie.  At first yes.  Made me feel like I was doing something, accomplishing something.  But it gets harder and harder to hide it, and harder and harder to stop.

The laptop slid across the quilt, and more typing led to another reply, this one from Overwham19—Nadia.  I did it once.  Took me weeks to get up the courage, and then when I did it I got so scared because there was blood everywhere, and I cried for hours.  Still couldn’t bring myself to tell my mom.

Mary hadn’t known this.  She turned to look at Nadia, who glanced down at the quilt.  She pulled off her sock, revealing a long white scar on her ankle.

“Nadi,” Mary murmured.

I went to her and put my wing around her, and Nadia turned back to the computer.  A moment later another reply came from Overwham19.  I haven’t done it again.

“Here,” Aaron said quietly, holding up his hand for the laptop.  As he typed, Natalie reached out and took Nadia’s hand and squeezed it.

BlackCloset88’s reply appeared on Mary’s screen.  It’s hard to talk to parents.  The good ones just love you so much and want you to succeed and you don’t want to let them down.  The bad ones…well, duh.

Mary had a response to that.  They have their own stuff to deal with.  Besides, they can’t really help.

Natalie tugged the laptop back.  That’s dumb.  No one can help you if you don’t let them know there’s a problem.

So have you talked to your parents? Mary retorted.

“Hey, that might lead to non-anonymity,” Nadia protested.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Natalie said.  “Though you could’ve asked me to my face, Wimmer.”

Mary turned the chair around.  “So have you talked to your parents?”

Natalie looked up at her with a wry smile.  “Not yet.  I was thinking sometime after the website gets going so I can show them I’m doing okay.”

“Tell that to them,” Aaron said, pointing to the screen.

“Shit, sorry.”  Natalie went back to the screen.

Not yet.  I want to be able to tell them that I’m okay.

Mary responded: See?  It’s hard.

So how do you do it? asked Aaron.  How do you tell your parents something that will break their hearts, or make them mad and disappointed?

All four of them were quiet, trying to figure out how to answer that.  In that quiet, there came a little chime of a reply, and our charges looked at one another before springing to look at the closest screen.

There was a reply from CinderellaFail96, which username none of them recognized.  It said, What if your parents just don’t care?

“Whoa, it actually worked,” Natalie said.

“What do we say?” Nadia asked, close to panic.

Mary was already typing, her heart picking up speed.  Her reply popped up a moment later: You sure that they don’t?

The response came quickly and unadorned.  Yes.

It broke my heart, and it broke Mary’s too.  She typed.  Guess then you find someone who does.  She hit enter, then thought of something and added, Like me.

Behind her there was a quick struggle for the laptop, punctuated by a whispered curse from Natalie.  Moments later there were three other responses: Me, too.  I care.  I care.

They waited in silence.  They were aware, hopeful, rather, that they could be making a huge difference in someone’s life.

You don’t know me, the response came at last.

Maybe not, Mary answered, but we know we don’t want you to get hurt. 

She was quicker than Natalie, who erased what she had been about to say and added instead, That’s what this site is for. 

For a moment they waited, but there was no further response.  Finally they gave up and closed the laptop, but everyone agreed that Mary’s idea was a good one.  They planned to start up another conversation tomorrow and discussed for over an hour what it should be about.

I have been thinking about this ever since.  How could anyone be so convinced that their own parents do not love them?  I wish that I could find this person, but the internet is very good at anonymity.  It is a sad thing, sometimes, keeping people separate.  But, as Inca reminds me, it also gives people the courage to reach out.  I can only hope that this will continue to happen through this project.  The more people who can be helped, the more help will come to our young charges.  No one should go through this struggle alone.