I am only sixteen. Do you hear me? I do not deserve this. The pain. The disdain. The 'It may happen to you'. Don't give me that because I do not deserve it.

I watch them. I'm on the ground now, my heart is pounding. Stuttering. My heart is stuttering. I wish it would just say what it wants to. But it stutters ' poor little thing. I can feel his hand on my shoulder. Moving in circles. Comfort is found in circles on my shoulder. I want to tell him thank you. I want to look into his eyes and just tell him thank you. But my eyes are arrogant. They refuse to open up. They put up a fight. I keep trying to fight back. It's a close match. So I try to reach out to him. My hand is hesitant. I don't want it to be. But it's afraid. And so am I. My hand hesitates because it knows that if in the end I can not hold onto it, that means that I have let everything go.

Stay with me. Breathe. Come on, just breathe.

Everytime you take a breath it is natural. In and out. If your lucky, you can see it come out in a thoughtless cloud. It takes no thought to breathe.

But try as I might, I cannot get myself to breathe. My thinking is slurred. Ba-reethe? Ba-reeethhee.

It's in my chest. This monster pounding. I wish I can tell it I am not home. Go away, please, you are not welcome. But he pounds. He is demanding. And I am not assertive enough.

You take it for granted, you know. I know this about you the same way you know this about me. This is what I want you to do for now on: look up. They always ask you to go forward, but you keep doing that, you're going to miss those beautiful things. I'm talking about the sky. I saw it when I fought the hardest and what a beautiful reward that was. My eyes kept trying to slam me down, my vision fought, and when I came up on top, I saw the sky. It was a perfect blue.

I am only sixteen. This can not be happening to me.

I am trying to breathe. Trying to stop stuttering. But my heart insists that it has to tell you something '

That sky is the perfect blue.

I think about pulling it around me. I feel the comfort. The sky would be comforting. It would suffocate me in comfort, and this pain will go away. I stop resisting. I put down my hands. They hesitate at my sides. My eyes slam shut. But I still see it ' that comfort of perfection. The place with no pain.

Stay with me.

No. You stay with me.

My heart spits. We are both pretty tired of talking. This speech is exhausing. And who was ever listening in the first place?

I fall back. I can feel his comforting circles. There is a slight smile. For a moment, there is immense pain. Shocks going throughout my body. Waves of pain. Let it wash over me. I am going to drown.

My hand is so stupid. Always trying to hold on. It's a bad idea, I know from the start, but my hand reaches out to grab him. It is as if my hand is making a statement:

Stay with me. Do not let me go.


I am going to tell you a few things, than I am going to ask you a few things. I am okay now. Just my little heart. And it's the hand that carries the soul. The soul reaches out. Always asks others to reach out too, and take it and not let go. I am only sixteen; I do not deserve to die. I have a life, as do you. Don't you ever wonder why God does that? But I do not want to get into God. I want to ask you one thing. I want you to look up. And notice it.

The perfect blue sky.

And breathe.

Do not forget to breathe.