text: TW: suicidal ideation, self harm A bright day. Cloudless, the sun shining shamelessly in the sky. The light breeze brushing against my bare lips. Nothing blocking it. But I feel sick . I want to throw up. I act like everything's okay, nothing's wrong, sipping my Fanta calmly through a paper straw. Because across from me, my best friend Logan sits on a white plastic chair, smiling. An innocent and sparkling smile, a naked one. Not covered by a breathless mask or anything. The atmosphere is tight. It's awkward because we haven't seen each other in a while, I guess. "Hey, it feels weird outside without wearing a mask, huh?" he says. "Yeah," I reply. It becomes quiet again. "D-do you want to take a walk?" he suggests. "Oh, sure," I say, and we stand up from our table and start out on the pavement road leading into the park nearby. The grass is freshly cut, the trees trimmed. Other people, some with dogs, run or walk past us. I throw my empty cup and straw in the trash can. My head throbs as I walk. It's really quiet between us. I think it's because neither of us have got anything to say. And then, out of the blue, he asks "Are you okay?", his eyes averting mine, like he's talking to the ground. It's so out of the blue that my eyes water with the care and worry in his voice. And abruptly, I blurt out "No, not really." His head snaps up, actually surprised. I think I feel his eyes on me. "Oh, uhm, what happened, Jacob?" I flinch at the sound of my name. I honestly wonder why I do. And then my eyes water, I can't stop sniffing, what the heck, stop-Am I going to cry?-why now, no-wait, Logan- I burst into tears. It comes out suddenly, the tears pouring down my cheeks, my hands hastily trying to cover and wipe them up, trembling breathes, and Logan's there, Logan trying to comfort me, leading me away from broad daylight to a more shadowed place, asking me what happened, if I'm okay, patting my back. I sniff, the sniff full of snot, tears dripping off my chin, my wet hands clasped together. My head throbs. It's not the easy, sliding tears, today, for no reason, is the salty, stingy tears. When I manage to calm down, he softly asks, "What happened?" I shake my head. "Why?" he whispers. "It's pathetic," I croak out. "Nothing's pathetic, Jacob." "I'm not okay. I'm not okay at all." "It's okay that you're not okay." "But Logan, you don't even know HALF of it!" "So tell me?" "No. Fine. I-I think I really need to burst." "It's okay, I'm here. I'll listen." "A-alright. Don't freak out." "I won't." "I'm a freak." "You are not." "I am! I think I have depression. I'm so sick of it." "It's okay." "It's NOT! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of not being normal! I'm sick of thinking how much of a freak I am, how ugly I am, how stupid I am every time I'm sad! I'm such a coward!" "You're not." "YES I AM! I can't even self harm probably. I COULD ONLY DO IT WITH A PIN! A FREAKING PIN!" "Self-harm?" "Please. Please, help. I think I need help. I'm so sick of it. I'm so sick of this life." I sniff again, tears starting to stream down my cheeks once again. "I'm so pathetic. Why was I even born in this world? Logan, Logan, I-I don't feel okay." He hugs me tightly. "It's okay. It's okay." He whispers gently again and again. I sob into my hands. His care, was honestly too much. "I'm so sick of it, Logan...I'm so sick of having t-to think that I'm so ugly, t-that I'm so, so, no, that I'm such, a COWARD, why can't I just have been normal?" He pats me on the back. "It's okay, Jacob. It's okay. I'll help you. I'll do my best." I look up at him with wide, tearful eyes. "Really?" "Of course." And from that, I cry again. Because, his care is honestly too much. It's..overwhelming. He only hugs me back tightly, comforting me. When I finally calm down, the sky is a bit darker, the moon more stamped in the sky. Less people walking around. I feel so tired. My heart is a burden in my chest, my head feeling airy and light from the energy that was sapped from crying. My eyes sting. "We should go home," I say. "Yeah, it's getting dark," he agrees. It's quiet again. "Do you want to know the first thing I did when I found out my sister was dead?" Logan's older sister was in a car accident and ended up passing away. He was ten back then. For a while, he was quiet, staring aimlessly at the sky, absentmindedly. "It depends on what you did," I say. He lets out a breathless laugh. "I laughed." Before I can open my mouth, he continues, "Because of the shock." "Oh." "I care about you, you know." I almost start crying again. "You're my best friend, Jacob. I know this is selfish, but I don't want you to die. It was a horrible feeling, laughing. It was like a daze. I was aware that I was laughing, aware that the police weren't, aware that the police weren't joking. But I laughed. I know this is heavy. It's a burden. No matter how much you want to die, you're going to feel guilty because of me. But because I'm human, I have to ask you not to. Please. I'm sorry, but please." "I'm too cowardly to try to kill myself anyway." He hugs me again. "No, Jacob. You're not a coward, I promise you." "I'm sorry, Logan. For not telling you." "It's okay. You shouldn't be sorry." He squeezes my hand. I almost say sorry again, but I stop myself. It's quiet again. The blanket of silence that falls too easily. I stand up, Logan doing the same. "Let's go home." He nods. We start on the pavement road toward our houses, which are almost right next to each other. He says bye before turning to his door. I call out "Wait!" and he turns around. "I promise, Logan. I'll do my best," I say, and I can see him smile, and then nod before heading in. I turn, heading toward my own home.