People take one look at me and think I have a great life. I’m happy, right? I should be happy. Then, someone please explain to me why I’m not? I had been doing so much better. I had been out of the last hospital for a few years now. It had been even longer since I had taken those pills. I haven’t tried in a long time. Several years. I had been doing so much better. I began to love life again. I had looked at the trees and the sky and the sidewalk and had almost felt happy. So, why am I crying now? Why am I questioning how I am still here? Should I finally get to join my friend? It’s been so long since I saw him. He passed away a few years back. He was 17 at the time. Not even an adult. His dad beat him until the only way out was through... death. I miss him. What I would do to see him one last time. It would be so, so easy. Right? After all my coworkers have done and said to me? I am a failure after all. Anyone in my career would have known what I failed to do. It was common sense. I should quit, they said. I should never show my face again. The people I called friends have all shown that they fear me. Some have even said it. I hurt them. An accident trip, and I fall on them in the process. I’ve always been clumsy. Especially to the point where I hurt others. I don’t want to hurt them. They trusted me. Or maybe they were just afraid of me. I don’t understand. I’ve always been too slow to comprehend. What did I do? Why am I a failure. Why do they seem to hate me? I won’t be able to hurt them in the ways that matter if I’m gone. Maybe they will think of me like I thought of my friend when he passed. I’ll be lucky to get thought of at all.