Because sometimes it's just too hard.

“Did you send it?”

“Yes,” I said and jumped back on my bed. 

“Are you okay,” she asked.

I looked back down at my scar. I felt a big lump start to form in my throat. I shook my head up and down. 

“Yeah,” I began. “I’m good.” 

She looked at me and smiled. “Listen, April May if you need anything Im right next-door. I’m glad your okay. I really really really am.” I chuckled and said,”Thank you Rose.. goodbye.” She then closed my door and made her way out. I grabbed one of my braids and twisted it around my finger. I then grabbed my journal and began to write. “Sunday, January 3rd…. Its freezing. Snow, rain, wind, and the whole bit. My father is who knows where. Probably off getting drunk or something like that. I can’t admit to the fact that I miss my mother because how could I possibly miss a person who sent me to live with an addict. But I do miss her voice and her touch….. I think most of all I miss how she always knew what I felt without me having to say it. I want good people… I want someone good. That makes me want to live. Im not happy. Nothing and no one makes me feel good anymore. I just want to feel good, that’s all.” 

I grabbed my notebook, shoved it inside my backpack and headed down the spiral staircase. The smell of warm pretzels and the aroma of deep dish brought a slight smile to my face. The icy wind was enough to make me run up those 12 flights of stairs again, but I didn’t. I grabbed my bike from the rack and began to head towards the East Coast, or the rich side of Chicago. Then I saw a few tents with homeless people fighting for their lives to survive. The sound of the L-train and the scrambling of people brought a feeling of overwhelms to my stomach. Its been officially 3 years since I’ve moved to this city and I don’t regret a single part of it. Ive fallen in love with Chicago, I really have. For one, its taught me how to be alone and lonely. As I make my way up East River, I can see the enormous white houses. I can see the tired filled men hard at work removing the ice from the driveways. After what felt like an iternity, I made it to THE HILL. I turn my head to see a boy about my age or so come over. He has a camera hanging from his neck. I smile and him and he smiles back at me. He has a black turtleneck and a carheart coat on. His black boots make him seem a lot taller than he really is. His green eyes are vibrant but soft in a way. I turn down my music as his presence makes me feel uncomfortable. “Are you getting some good shots,” I ask. He pulls his camera down from his right eye and sits down a few feet away from me. “I mean the camera can’t really capture the beauty I'm seeing, but yeah. I really want to bw able to see those herds of people down there,” he said and pointed toarwads the frozen River. His voice was like butter melting in a pan. It was so satisfying. “What brings you out here?” He asked me. I continued to draw and without making eye contact said,”Same reason your out I guess.” The sounds that erupted from his camera made the silence seem less awkward and more real. “I’m Zaid by the way,” he said. I smiled at him. “April,” I replied. “Most people call me April May.” HE chuckled and put his camera down. “Is April May your real name?” He asked. “Yes, I just told you it was,” I stated sarcastically. He scooted in closer to me which made my legs shake even worse than before. “Your parents must really like those months,” he laughingly said. I shook my head, no. “Actually they didn’t name me. I named myself. I was adopted,” I admitted. I closed my notebook and stuffed it inside my bag. 

“Do you like your parents who didn’t name you?”

“There fine,” I lied not wanting to sound like a charity case. 

“Just fine?” He asked. 

I scrunched my nose. “Your very noisy, you know.” 

He smiled and rubbed his fingers through his curly brown hair. “I’m just curious. Oh would you mind if I took a picture of you?” 

I smiled. “I guess.”

I heard the beed come from the camera and stood up to look at the masterpiece he had took. “Wow,” I said. “I like seeing the world through this better.” He turned the camera off. 

“Really? I think its so much more raw just looking at it with our two eyes.”

“I mean of course,” I agreed. “But its more simple looking through a netruel perspective.”

“Simples not good. Simples like art with no color.”

“You don’t need color to see black and white. You can interrupt it how you want to interpret it. If I think its sad and depressing than that’s what I see it as…. “

“Zaid, what school do you go to?” I asked.

“I go to East high,” he said. 

I knew about East high. Rachel goes to all the parties there I thought. IT’s the private school up near the East side. 

“They throw good parties, Ive heard.”

He smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Ive really only been to two of them. There okay. I mean if you quality boos and drugsx as a good party then I guess it is.”

“I go to the public chi HS.”

He shook his head. 

“Have you ever been to a party,” he asked. 

“No,” I laughed. “Im not really a typical high schooler. No one knows who I am, but I know who everyone else is”

Hes smiled. “You should go.”

“Where?”

“To a party. With me.”

I felt my cheeks turn red. “I thought you just said you don’t like to go to parties. And I don’t like to go. So why should we?"

“Well I don’t know,” he smirked. “I just maybe think you’d, we have fun.”

“I don’t drink,” I said. “Or do drugs.”

“Listen,” he said. “I do drink and I do smoke weed, but not a ton. And Im a senior and I should do senior things.” 

“Your a senior?” I exclaimed. 

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

I looked away, mocking his mannerisms. “Junior.” 

“Tonight. 8pm. Meet here,” he said.

It was already starting to get dark and my stomach ached. I wanted to say yes, a trillion times yes, but at the same time I thought about Holden Coffer and how that couldn’t happen again.

“Ok,” I stated trying to sound unenthusicatic. 

“April May,” he said putting out his gloved hand. “It was a plessue to meet you.” 

I grabbed his hand very elegantly. 

“What’s your last name,” I whispered. 

“Jameson,” he replied. 

As he walked away, I screamed,”ZAID JAMESON ILL SEE YOU TONIGHT.”

I grabbed my bike and raced down the hill. I told myself over and over again that he was different…. He wasn’t Holden Coffer, he was Zaid Jameson. Once I got home I saw my father laying on the couch. The smell of weed filled the apartment building. “I’m leaving,” I then said. He stood up, handing onto the wall. “Where?” I opened the creek door feeling the gust of cold wind run up my back. I slammed the door in his face. I ran down the first flight of stairs waiting for the door to open again. Waiting for my father to say “come back here, I love you.” But that didn’t happen. That never happened…… I stopped by Sals. If you live in Chicago you know Sals. I opened the door hearing that bell that always goes off when someone walks in. It felt like home. “Hey April!” Sal goes. “Howda you do?” I smiled and shook my head as he prepared my usual He looked at me with his dark brown eyes and gave me that old Sal smile. “How your Daddy?”

“Not good,” I said. 

“He got a job?” 

“Don’t know,” I said taking a bite of my churro. 

“Hey Sal,” I said not wanting him to leave. “Where’s the cheapest place in CHI where I can live?” 

He laughed. “April MAY de aint no way you living alone up here near the South side.” 

I smiled, playing it off.

“I gotta get out.” 

He looked at me, his smile fading. 

He took his apron off and stepped over the counter. “Baron!” He called. “Cover me for a min.” 

He hugged me. “If you need anything. I mean anything you can call me,” he then said. “Thanks Sal. I mean it.” 

Once I made it to the East Side I waited for Zaid. It was 7:59 on the dot. My heart began to race… 8:02 soon turned into 8:08. At 8:11 then turned into 8:15. “I don’t know why the hell I thought he would be different,” I thought to myself. “Hey stranger,” I heard. I turned around. There he was. Dressed in a white puffer coat and a collared shirt. I smirked. “Where are you going?” He questioned. I turned towards him but kept walking. “It’s 8:20 Zaid… You said you would be here at eight. I didn’t take you for the aloof type.” He ran to me. “Hey. Im so sorry. Really. Its just. Im here now. Look please let me make up to you. Lets go. Please have some fun.” I turned towards him. “Why did you invite me anyway. Did you breakup with someone. Why me?” I asked. “Why me?” He looked me in the eyes. “I saw something in you April May. Something that’s in me too. This like incredibly horrible yet so beatiful thing that makes us hat and love our life all at the same time. I am a worrier. I am a over thinker. I am not beautiful or easy or simple. I am complex. And- I saw you all alone. Like me.”

He pulled me into him and hugged me. “Is this weird?” He asked. I was extremely uncomfortable and pulled away. “Not really,” I whispered.

Once we made it to the front doorstep I could already smell weed and hear the words of Drakes new album blast. Butterflies were going all throughout my stomach. I looked at Zaid. He looked at me. We walked in to think dark room. Colorful lights were discoing throughout the whole house. Acholol sprayed from peoples mouth. There were people making out and playing beer pong. We found a seat in the corner. “Wait here,” Zaid screamed over the music. He came back with two red cups. “What’s that?” I screamed. 

“Just some beer.” I smiled. Smelled the cup and took a sip. “What?” He said. “You’ve never had beer?” I laughed as the music winded down. “I didn’t say that. I just-. I haven’t had it in a long time.” He took another sip and then grabbed mine out of my hand. He chugged it. “Oh no,” I thought. Not Holden Coffer. 

“Do you drink a lot,” I asked, worrisome. “No,” he stated. “My parents are like always gone and whatever. Mostly my mom. So like sometimes me and my fathers bar will have dinner together,” he laughed. I shook my head. “Its not serious or anything. Just like a beer. ITs helps with my creativity I think. My photographs… It just kinda enhances my Beauty but also my ugliness.” I shook my head as he stood up. He grabbed my hand. “Wanna go upstairs?” 

I smiled and put my hand on top of his. We walked up a flight of stairs. He ran up each flight, pulling me to him. The noise settled down. “Are we allowed to be here,” I asked. He laughed. I questioned him. “Your a worrier too,” he said almost relived. “I guess,” I added trying to look in his eyes. “What’s your favorite book,” I asked. He looked me in the eyes and laid down on the top of the stairs. “The last time we said goodbye is up there. Probably To Kill A Mockingbird still. Unmatched.” I smiled. After all, I agreed but made it out to seem like he was crazy. “Your telling me that The Catcher and the Ryes not up there? How about the Jay Gastby? How about They Both Die At The End?”

“Not really. There kinda cliché. Like I don’t know. Its just I feel some type of envy when someone is speaking on Holden Coalfield. Its like not all depressed/anti-socail and systematic people are that weird and acholohiicly driven and different at the point that they become another species. We have to be human whether we like it or not.” I laughed. “So, that was deep.” He laughed, unconsciously. Holden looked to see who it was. “No freaking way. It that Zaid freaking Jamson!” A guy with a girl came out the room. She was extremely pale and had her high heels in one hand. Zaids dimple spread across his face. “Gabe,” he cried out, hesitantly. “This is my friend April.” He shook my hand. Once they left Zaids demeanor turned cold. “Everything good?” I said. He put his hand on the stairwell, hunching over. “That guy,” he said with a shaky voice. “I think he’s responsible for my brothers disappearance, possibly death.” A lump formed in my throat. I sat Zaid down.Once we made it outside he took his coat off and out it around me. We began walking home. “Two months ago,”he said. “I knew my brother was depressed. He was always listening to my type of loft music after his obsessive rap phase. He played basketball on the same team as Gabe. But he changed. He got cut from the team going into his eighth grade year. So he tried out for this Highschool ball club with Gabe being on the team. And he skipped a grade. But once he got to high school its like a flip had switched. And then he had a girlfriend. I told him to not be stupid, but he thought I was crazy When they broke up I tried asking hi about what had happened but he just locked his door. He turned into this depressed ninth grader. Like the world was out to get him or something. I tried helping him but he just thought I had too much of a perfect life. So I suggested going back to eight grade. And then one day he was gone. Just like that.” I hugged him. I was saddened for him. I could feel his solitude in his heart. “What were his last words?” I calmly asked. “He told me. I think he said something like you don’t understand Zaid. You don’t F-ing understand what I go through. You have a perfect F-ing life. And then I said that I didn’t. I told him that I was lonely and scared and sad. And he told me to look in the mirror.” I squeezed his hand. “You know I hate it when people say like I wish I told him that I loved him. Tell everyone you love that you love them. I just I HATE IT. Because I told him that I was fucking sad and he didn’t believe me. I gave him my favorite book that has kept me living and he threw it at me. I fucking tried and he failed. He gave up,” Zaid cried. “All his fourteen years of life I was his father, his mother, and his brother. I went to everyone of his games. I remember when my father left for a few months and my mother was off getting drunk overnight how I would take care of him. I was like twelve. He was six. I used to bath him. I used to make him food and help him with his homework. I used to read him books at the age of seven. I used to be the one who picked him up from school everyday. I one who took his instagram photos. The one who shared his dream of going to UCLA. That was me.”

“Gabe,” Zaid began saying. “There was something about him that like flipped a switch in Lev when Gabe started coming over to the house. All I know is that for these past two months, reality has seemed like a nightmare. I haven’t been living. Ive just been going through this like spiral. Like this never-ending loop. I honestly just don’t know what or how to feel. I lost him the moment I decided to leave him in, his door, and to believe that he just was a kid going through a phase.I just don’t know if I can live with myself anymore.” Once we made it to the THE HILL he sat down on the now melted ice.”Ive tried to put this all behind e. I tried to bury it and go to parties and drink alcohol and listen to Kendrick, but I cant anymore.” I inhaled awkwardly. I was after all in disbelief. I had no clue a party would turn into this. I cut him off, “You deserve to live Zaid,” was all I could come up with. He was shaking his head as tears sprawled from his face. “ We don’t see the world how everyone else sees it. We’re wise. I know that from the moment you looked at me. You have gotten through every bad day of your life. You can get through these too. Because quite frankly, your too special to die.” He looked at me through the dark sky. “Im here for you,” I said, not knowing that those four words could change his life.