—Age 8.
"Why are you like this?"
I ask myself, as I paint my skies gray.
—Age 12.
"Why are you like this?"
My friend asks me, his voice his filled with worry as he watches me lay in bed for hours. "I don't know," I whisper as I turn to look at him, "I truly don't know."
—Age 15.
"Why are you like this?"
He asks me again, but this time it's different. His voice is laced with sadness and you can practically hear the tears in his throat. "I'm sorry." I whisper as I shut my bedroom door and sat next to my new friend.
—Age 21.
"Why are you like this?"
I ask her, she looks down at me and smiles. Her smile is so sickly warm. She pulls me up to my feet so that I am standing on the edge of the roof.
"You did this."
Then we [I] jump.
