I jump out of the car. Its two blocks west. I run, run past people, run past buildings, I run. Washington. I scan the buildings for numbers but something is missing. 111. It’s supposed to be 1123. The right thought flashes through my mind but I ignore it, holding on to that last string of hope. Out of breath, I still manage to mumble and repeat my question. A mile. 16 blocks. 7:14. I call my dad and merely mouth the words Washington and Clark. He knows me well enough to know it’s a statement, a plea, a quit. I’m standing on the corner glancing at my surroundings. It has to be -10 outside and I now regret exchanging my comfy hoodie for a cute crew top. And suddenly I feel the tears I’ve held back for the past week rushing to my eyes and I do nothing to hold them back. And suddenly, crying on the corner of Washington and Clark, I have never felt so alone. My vision is blurred from the tears now pouring down my face. I look around and notice for a downtown corner it seems to be pretty empty. Several people pass me, but thankfully most are too absorbed in their pace of motion or muffled by the numerous scarves worn to notice me. I do not need shame and embarrassment on top of this right now.

Minivan pulls up to the corner and I quickly slide in. The tears on my face are evident enough that any effort to hide them is useless. Its okay honey, these things happen all the time. Nine words. Suddenly my once in-process-of- stopping stream turns into a waterfall. My dad and I are the same people. He knows what to say when I’m mad just like I know exactly what to say to tick him off. Had it been my mom, a series of equally extravagant tears would follow on her face in consolation for my own. But since it was good old Papi, a simple pat on the back and a nod of understanding consoled me enough. The ride home proceeded in silence, the one silence I don’t dread. Sniffles from my nose and an occasional yawn are the only noises heard just how I like it. It’s the silence that makes me think. It’s the silence after a tragedy that soothes me. It’s the silence after everything that allows me to recapture my thoughts.

The last two weeks have been hell. No, I don’t always start crying like a baby when things don’t go my way, but today’s events were the last drops in an already overflowing cup of water. It’s everything. It’s school. It’s him. It’s the other him. It’s my friends. It’s my parents. It’s my therapist. It’s my dog. It’s my life. It’s having too much when only being able to handle so much. It’s having the world on your shoulders while you stand on your tippy toes. It’s working to reach every expectation set but missing every target on the way. It’s the years of convincing myself I could do it all alone when I finally realize, maybe too late, it would’ve been easier another way. Its thinking I know everything while convinced I am capable of nothing. It’s the feeling I wake up with everyday.

Maybe I’m just not good enough. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.