Why should I live? I just don’t value my life anymore. There is no purpose to my existence..my potential. What did she do to deserve this God? How do you expect us to go about our lives? She took me to school everyday, cleaned up the intentional messes I, being a stupid ignorant baby, would make for the past 14 years. She was too young. My father would always tell me she was a beautiful girl. I felt awkward when he would say that, until she was gone. I always knew she was diagnosed, but I never had the guts to convince myself that it could really happen. I didn’t think life was this delicate. She was the example to which I based my life off of, my motivation for doing well in school, f
or being that exceptional child. Now, I had no motivation. I had no one to be proud of me. Had my father not been “working” (God knows what he was doing) out of state the majority of the year, maybe we would have gotten closer. That’s not the case though.


I’ve settled. I’ve made up my mind. I’m doing it tonight. Maybe I’ll find her up there, whatever up there is, and see her again. Maybe she’s waiting there for me. She is waiting there for me. She’s looking at me right now. I want her to know that I care about her, to recognize the agony and trauma I give off for her. There are moments where the process of gaining her recognition and her understanding as to the cause of my anxiety are more valuable than the actual anxiety that I feel.


“Nick! Sorry to disturb your sleep. I will give you two options. Sit up and listen like the rest of the class, or continue your slumber in the principles office.”


I acknowledged her sarcasm while slowly lifting my head up from my desk.
When our eyes repulsively aligned, I redirected by gaze to the familiar quote that I usually chose to zone out to on the wall, “To live or to die.” I never quite understood it.


I thought she knew. Apparently not... Even better. Less drama. I hate drama and all the people that go along with it.


I felt the presence of the class and the attention that I held. I was not a fan of it. I was about to open my mouth and go all out on her, but I stopped myself. It never got me anywhere. Instead, I instinctively grabbed my bag, practically empty, tossed it on my shoulder and sauntered towards the class exit, hearing but not nearly listening to any of Ms. Dawn’s stupid scolding. I opened the door, walked out, and flung it extra hard so that the portion of the class who could empathize with me felt my anger.


Thank God I was out.


Oh great, the security guard. I should have thought about it. Maybe I was better off planning this all out. Actually, I don’t care. I’ll outrun him. What is he ganna do? Shoot me? Isn’t that what I want?


“Excuse me sir. Do you have an early exit slip?”


“No. What happens if I don’t?”


“Then I’m afraid I can’t let....”


I started running as he took his split second to generate a response. I got to the fence and began the climb. I realized something. I wasn’t running from him anymore; I was running from myself, from the fear within me that told me I needed to go somewhere. Somewhere out of this world, somewhere that would take me to her... But how?


When I was back in my mind, I was over the fence, running aimlessly towards the nearest escape, which I right then discovered to be Danger. I stopped running. As I slowed down, I heard my heart beat get louder and louder, acknowledging every inhale and exhale. Other than my breathe, I felt paralyzed; my body and my mind. I was in front of Vermont Ave., a block from my school. This was the big street with all the cars passing the speed limits. I felt comfortable because I took this street everyday on my way to school. Drivers gazed at my stillness, but I could care less.


I found it.


I waited for the light to turn green so that my timing with that rusty red toyota would be perfect...


I opened my eyes, disturbed by the light and confused about the hovering people. I blinked a couple times, hoping I was there, hoping that one of them was her.


“Mom?”