You sigh to yourself as you sit alone, you have homework, but the main point is that you’re knee deep in stress. You work through as much as you can, but it gets to the point when your brain just isn’t working anymore. You’ve been reading thee same sentence for the past five minutes. Ugh. You decide it’s time for a break. On the way to the kitchen, you see a figure outside the window. Your heart skips a beat, and you’re suddenly filled with terror.
Who is that? Is someone stalking the house? But why? No. You try your hardest to convince yourself that’s not the case. You practically sprint into the kitchen and crouch on the floor, hiding from sight. You pull your cell phone out of your pocket and dial the number of your closest guy friend, Cole. It rings. And rings. And rings. He doesn’t pick up and it doesn’t even go to voicemail. Now you’re absolutely terrified. You curl into a ball just as someone starts knocking on the window. You’ve seen enough movies to know this is not a good sign.
“Ariana! Ariana?” The voice is muffled, but familiar. Actually, it sounds like Cole’s voice? No, why would he be here? “Ariana!”
You gather your courage and stand, slowly walking towards the window. You begin to write your death note in your head: Dear Mom and Dad, tonight while I was home alone, a mass murderer came to house, impersonated my best friend’s voice, called my name, and I was dumb enough to go see who it was. I’m sorry for all the bad things I’ve ever—Cole!
“Cole!” You grin and run to the window, “What are you doing here?”
He cups his ear, “What? I can’t hear you!”
You raise your voice, “I said, What are you doing here?!”
He shakes his head, “I can’t…”
Then you realize you should probably go outside and get him. You run to the front door and yank it open, anxious to be at Cole’s side again. You run to him and practically jump on him.
“Hi, Cole,” you murmur.
“Hey, Ariana,” he squeezes you tightly around the waist. He pulls back to get a good look at you and notices your dark eye circles and tired, red eyes. His brow furrows with concern, “Have you been okay?”
“Um, yeah,” you lie.
“Ariana,” he takes hold of your arms and looks you squarely in the eyes, “I want you to know that if something’s wrong, you can talk to me. You can tell me anything.” His eyes are earnest and his words are sincere as he gently squeezes your arms.
You feel your eyes tingling as you gasp and try your hardest to hold back your tears. You break eye contact and look anywhere but at Cole. His gaze is too penetrating.
“Ariana?! Is everything alright?”
You sigh, “I’ve just been really stressed with school,” you can feel the tears coming as your façade breaks, “and sometimes I just don’t feel like I’m good enough.” The tears are flowing freely down your cheeks now and Cole is silent. Your vision is blurred and you can’t make out his outline anymore.
“Ariana,” he whispers, “don’t say that. You are good enough, don’t ever let anyone or anything tell you different. Okay? You will always be good enough. Always.”
“Always?” you ask.
“Always,” he answers.
So, even when you feel down, when you’re at your worst, there is someone who believes that you are good enough. And for that person, you will always be good enough.
