I had never felt so foolish before, and now I would never feel foolish again. “I shouldn’t have done it, it was so stupid.” I said, fumbling with the telephone wire. “No it wasn’t, Jason. You did it for Emily,” said Marie. As I hear that name, a million memories rush through my head. All of the smiles, jokes and hugs we shared flip through my brain like a scrapbook of thoughts. It feels like just yesterday she was sitting right next to me, yet I can hardly remember how I let us become so distant. Emily. The word makes the pain worsen. But, sometimes pain is so prevalent, I can’t tell if it is true pain or just the absence of a thought. Yet, this time, I can feel the throbbing in my heart like a bullet taken straight through the chest. I know what it feels like.
“I didn’t mean for things to go this far... she didn’t even care,” I said. Marie continued trying to comfort me over the phone, but my mind kept trailing off. I couldn’t help but think about Emily. I remember how I used to walk home with her from school everyday. Though we both only lived three, short blocks from the high school, I would always walk slowly in an attempt to make those three blocks last a lifetime. Sometimes she would catch me staring at her, but she didn’t seem to care much. She was an awkward kind of beauty: an overbite, slightly crooked teeth, and millions of dark freckles decorating her chubby cheeks. I was only funny in a geeky way, but Emily always laughed at my jokes. She was the most popular girl in the ninth grade, and I was invisible. Emily was the first person to see me.
Snapping back to the conversation, I cut her off sharply, “I gotta go, Marie. Thanks.”
“Where could you possibly be going, Jason?” Marie said sarcastically, but I hung up anyways.
I felt a little bad, I must admit. Marie is a great friend and all, but I’ve only known her for the two weeks that I’ve been up here. She doesn’t talk much about why or even how she left, but I guess I never really asked. I know she’s been up here a while, because she always talks about her “Post-depression Depression” of being lonely for so long. I guess I’m the only one she can talk to.
I look at my watch, displaying the numbers 3:45 on the small, digital screen. School is over, Emily must be going home now. I glide over to the large, white observation post and look for her. After moments of searching through the bright orange trees, I suddenly spy her short, brown hair in the crowd of teenagers. I silently watch as Emily walks and talks, leading her usual posse of giggly ninth grade girls... and Chris. I roll my eyes in disgust as I watch Chris Johnson slowly reach for her hand. As Emily willingly grabs it, he leans over and kisses her on the cheek.
Chris Johnson was the ultimate stud. Blonde, shaggy hair and bulging biceps from being quarterback on the school football team. He was a junior, but that didn’t intimidate Emily. She was outgoing, but so was he. Emily knew they were the perfect couple, yet I still had myself convinced that I could prove her otherwise.
I remember the day everything broke. That was the day when all controversy started, and I chose to end it. I was waiting by Emily’s locker after the final school bell rang. After almost ten minutes of leaning against her bright blue locker, she finally showed up. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to come,” I said pathetically. Right as those words slipped out of my mouth, I saw Chris Johnson pop out from behind Emily. “Oh, sorry. I am gonna walk with Chris today. Hope you don’t mind,” said Emily. Lying, I spoke a quiet ‘no’. But, right as I started to walk away is when the real humiliation surfaced. “Yeah, walk away, loser. No one wants you here.” My head became hot as I heard those words jump out of Chris’ mouth. I slowly turned around only to see his face directly in front of mine. “Leave, homo,” he spoke, letting his spit fall on my face.

I had been called it before, especially from Chris. As I said before, I was an outcast. I was shorter, weaker and significantly less attractive than the rest of the guys at my school. I didn’t have many friends, or any at all, besides Emily. The fact that my only friend was a girl only helped the never-ending rumors of my questionable sexuality. I was used to the hate, though none of it was true. Being shoved into lockers and beaten up behind the school by Chris Johnson was a daily ritual, for me. But, somehow, this punch felt different.
I could hear the laughter surrounding me as his muscular fist smashed against my chin. The world started to spin as I fell to the concrete, Chris still standing over me. I didn’t feel much pain on my face, yet the pain I had kept inside quickly arose. The laughter gradually became louder as I dizzily sat up, blood streaming down my neck. As my eyes began to refocus, I saw Emily smiling and laughing along with the crowd. The one person I trusted, the only one I ever brought myself to love, standing beside Chris without a second thought. “I loved you!” I screamed out as tears gathered in my eyes, “I loved you!” Those three words held the power to silence the crowd, yet only for long enough until Emily replied, “Eew! Leave me alone, freak!”
Hurt and confused, I stood up and began to run home, tears rushing down my face. Occasionally, I would look back to see a sea of teenagers, lead by Emily, pointing and laughing in my direction. When I reached my house, I decided I couldn’t face the humiliation of returning to school the next day, and quickly fired the shot so I never would have to. I was caught in between hating Emily and hating myself. I thought abandoning the earth would be an easy way to never have to hate either one.
I angrily back away from the post, looking for something to throw against the wall. But there is nothing... I should be used to that. I feel my face burning as I rip out pieces of my greasy, unbrushed hair. I scream as I bang against the clear, glass floor, waiting for it to break. It never does. As my fists begin to throb, I roll over on my back in defeat. As I lay facing the invisible barrier from my body to the continuous blue sky, all I feel is regret. Though I loathed the feeling of being singled-out, the feeling of isolation up here, I decided, is much worse. “I shouldn’t have left so soon,” I mumbled to myself. Because, from up above, it seemed as if everything was normal on earth. No mourning or tears shed, no prayers or thoughts at all. “I expected more,” I say aloud. “I thought she would regret everything she did to make me want to sink this low. I was hoping she would take it back once I put the gun to my head.”