"Thank god."
I wiped the tears from my eyes.
"Emma! Emma, can you hear me?"
She widened her eyes and looked at me.
I'm so glad.
I'm so glad.
He's back?
. . .
I guess not.
"Emma…"
"Nate…"
"Don't talk too much, you're still hurt."
She looked around slightly. Her eyes weakened when she looked at her mom. I can only imagine what she must've been thinking. It hurts me to think of how her mother must feel. She hasn't spoken since I got here.
It's been 3 hours since.
The doctor rushed in and a pair of nurses came in behind him. They split to each side of the hospital bed and saw to all of her needs. I was told to leave and go home. I checked the time and saw that it was 10pm. I had to go home. I didn't want to.
* * *
In my car, I felt tired. I felt so tired. But not physically. My mind was spiraling. I struggled to stay on the road. I felt that I had hurt Emma–– hurt her mother. Did she want me there? Did she want me in her life? I–– I felt so weak. So limp. My arms struggled to turn the wheel and I swerved in between the lanes. Back and forth. And back and forth. Swaying and hesitating. If I were to crash, would she be happy? Maybe I'm causing her attacks. If I were gone… would her problems disappear? What if I…
Am I a burden?
Her mom sure seemed to think that.
I mean, hell, she didn't ask why Emma wanted me there. She didn't even ask who I really was to Emma.
Maybe she knew.
I'm nothing to her.
I'm not someone she cares about–– someone she loves.
I'm just some guy she met at a party who happens to be classmates with her.
If I veered off this road, would she even come looking for me?
I shouldn't have come.
I'm stupid.
I don't wanna be here.
I hurt Emma… I…
No.
I called Marc.
"Marc, am I a burden?"
"Of course not…"
"I–– I mean I couldn't be… right? I––I mean if I was a burden, you wouldn't hang out with me? Y––you wouldn't be my friend."
"You're not a burden."
"Marc, I… I––I've caused you so much… so much pain. All these years, these nights. For ages, for so long. Almost 2 decades of me hurting you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You–– You know what I mean. I would come to your house every time dad hit me. I would always come and shoot you with nerf guns and use your toys. I'd stay at your house for days at a time. I was like a parasite. Draining you, I mean. I drain you of your energy, time, happiness–– probably. I called you up last minute for something you probably didn't wanna do,–– I mean you had to pay for your own six flags ticket, after I basically made you come. I'm so–– I'm horrible."
"What are you even say––"
"I manipulate you. Emma. Hailey. I'm not some kind guy, who likes to read books and hang out with friends. I'm the–– I'm the loser who spent his first 3 years of high school in his room playing video games and watching videos. I didn't do anything. I haven't helped you. Or Emma. Or Hailey–– Hell I haven't even helped Carly. I just sit here, and let everyone do everything for me. I'm so selfish–– I'm a fraud. Heh, I'm a fraud. I lied to you. I lied to Emma. I lied to Hailey. To Carly. None of you know the real me. I bet you didn't even know I talk to myself! I'm so lonely, that every day, I do this inner monologue. Like a character. I–– I'm so fake I don't even tell myself the truth… This whole time… I've been lying to myself. I make myself seem so much better than I really am. Talking myself up like a bigshot when in reality I can't do anything right. I never got it till now, but now I do. I'm not a good guy. I force my way into other people's lives. I make empty promises to empty people. I say all this stuff like I can help Emma make friends, but in reality I don't even have friends of my own. I am alone and I play myself up to not be. I've been suffering… for so long… struggling… It hurts."
"Nate… calm down…"
"Did you know I'm driving right now?"
"You're what?"
"Yup. I'm going 80 down the road to my house."
"Nate… I need you to listen to me. Stop the car. Pull over, we can talk this over."
"N––no… I just wanna… I just wanna die… I–– I've been holding back for so long but––" I pushed my foot into the accelerator, "I JUST WANNA DIE!"
"No… Nate… Come over. Please."
I slowed down.
"Why? Why do you want me over? I'm just going to hurt you."
"Nate, you think I'm not hurting right now? Knowing my best friend–– my brother–– could be pushing death right now? You think that makes me happy?"
What? What does he mean? Wouldn't he be better off without me?
"What are you saying Marc! You said it yourself–– I'm hurting you right now. It's just…"
What am I doing?
Killing myself?
How would that help me?
How would that help them?
It would just cause them more pain.
Anything but that.
"Anything but that…"
"Nate, It's human nature to hurt each other. Since the start of life, we've fought–– with our tribes, clans, kingdoms, nations, and countries. War is always happening. Humans are always fighting–– hurting each other. But emotional hurt is way stronger than any sword or any blade. Emotional pain is something that no matter what, people will feel. It's not your fault. Me and Emma aren't suffering because of you."
"..."
I stopped the car.
"We aren't suffering because of you. Do you get on my nerves sometimes? Sure. Do you probably get on her nerves too? I don't doubt it. But that doesn't mean we don't love and care for you. And if Emma doesn't want you around… then she's a fucking idiot. You're a great guy Nate. If she can't see that, then she's not the one. Tell me, has she ever said she doesn't want you around?"
"No…"
"Then why do you think that?"
"Marc… for so many years… I've been–– For so long, I've felt alone. I've felt that no matter what I did, everyone was so much better than me. Everyone had more friends. Everyone had a nice dad. A nice life. Everyone but me. I would look at the kids on the playground, and I would copy their faces–– forcing a smile–– forcing myself to fit in. Fit a mold that I was never flexible enough to slip into. My fake smile, my laughs–– all a facade to hide what I really was. I was empty. I still am. But then I learned something, so is everyone else. And maybe they are empty because I'm around. No one knows why we are born. No one knows what the purpose of life is. We've spent our entire existence trying to find out. Creating religions, using science, anything we can. Humans are all empty. We want a purpose. And most people find a purpose… but I–– I haven't. I don't have a purpose. I don't even have an idea–– a clue–– as to what it could possibly be."
"That's okay Nate."
"What?"
"Nate, I'm gonna let you in on a secret. All people–– me, my neighbor, Emma, Carl from the 7/11–– we don't know a damned thing about our purpose. That's because there is no 'purpose' to life. YOU have to give your life a purpose. If you live your life searching for some purpose–– something to make you complete–– you'll never enjoy life."
"Even if that's true… how… how do I do that?"
"You're in the art club right Nate?"
"H––how'd you know that…"
"That's unimportant. Anyways, you want to know how to make a purpose? Take something you love, and dedicate yourself to it. If you love art, keep making art. Keep painting and drawing. Paint until your fingers bleed. And when that happens, use your blood as paint–– well I wouldn't go that far–– but you get the point. If you can focus on one thing in your life, you'll have made that your purpose. It may not be a permanent fix, but it's something to help you guide your way in life."
"But I'm no good at art…"
"Says who? And even if they said that, to hell with their opinion. You make that art for yourself–– not anyone else."
"You're right…"
"Nate, if you ever feel this way… come to me. Come to Emma. We will listen. We care about you. Hearing someone you care about say they don't care about themselves– that hurts us more than you can imagine. If you're doing something– self harm, even just thinking about it– I don't want to stop all at once, but I want you to calm down, and think. And then call one of us. I know it can be tough to quit something like that, I know it can be something that is hard to talk about. You probably don't even tell yourself when you do it. You don't want to remind yourself. But you can't keep going on your whole life doing something like this. Feeling suicidal. Feeling worse. You're one of the better guys I know out there Nate. Don't for a damn second think that everyone is better than you."
"I…"
I didn't know what to say. Even if what he was saying was true… Why should I make myself stop feeling this way? I don't know anything other than this.
"Nate, take the first step with me!"
"First step?"
"I'll join you, I'll find a purpose in my life too."
"A purpose, hm…"
"So please Nate… come over."
"... Okay…"
I drove to Marc's house and on the way I felt something lift off of my chest. There was still weight, but was a little bit chipped off, and I think–– that might be the first step. I feel that it might be a long time until this feeling… these thoughts–– until it all goes away.
I think Emma goes to a therapist… Maybe I should ask her who she's in contact with.
Emma…
I don't want to stress her out.
I wonder…
Does she feel this way?
Sad?
Depressed.
I wonder…
It's something so simple, yet it was so hard to let it out.
I should listen to Marc.
It's time to make some art.