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I stooped down, picking the wrapper up off the park ground. It must be clean. I’ll keep it that way.


I am an 8th grader, my name is Gaten, and I’m a clean freak and blah blah blah. Who cares? I don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. My dirty blond hair blew in the wind, and I withdrew into the comforting trees; I always hated the city.


I carried my bag, filled up with trash, to the next trash can. I dumped it, watching the trash leave. I wished it was that easy in real life.


In real life, I was motivating and supportive, no one bullied me. I loved to make people happy. But among the park, I was the real me. I could feel it. No one knew me well enough to say “I know you’re not ok, Gaten, what’s wrong?” Everyone is deceived. I shuttered, flinching away from the loneliness.


I then tied the bag to the trash can, ensuring that it wouldn’t fly away, and ventured into the trees, off the path. It was beautiful, wild and untamed. I crouched besides a stream I had found and gazed into it, letting my mind wander. Feeling the moss beneath me, I sighed, wishing the entire world was this peaceful. I didn’t believe the stories, that a killer had once lived in this very spot. A killer has no business here.


Shivering, I sunk into the moss behind me. I began to think of people crying, of the sadness. After Katerina was murdered, we were all sad, but her friends were wounded most of all. They were a wreck, overcome with grief, without a leader.  


“It’s ok,” I soothed, “She will watch you from heaven. She loves you and will protect you.”   I crooned to her. She needs me. Lots of people needed me.


“I can’t believe Alex would say that!” Mainly drama from girls.


“Alex has her own problems, and she may not have realized that what she said was offensive. You will get over it and be friends again. I believe in you.” Was I really that good of a liar?


But boys had their own problems. Harder to solve; harder to lie. “Who needs me? I’m not useful.” I knew he was and one thing I did believe fit here. To some degree I believed, though.  


“Everyone matters,” Except for me “Everyone was made for a purpose,” Why was I? “Don’t worry.” I smiled reassuringly, a fake smile. I felt sick to the stomach. Such a fake smile...


“But who needs me?” he would ask, shaking and about ready to suicide.


“God.” I simply would answer. God needed him. The people all had the same reasons for wanting to leave. They needed to understand that we are here for them. Even if it kills me… I thought vaguely. But I can’t let it kill me, I can’t. They will be broken by pain… and I can’t let any of my friends be like that. It’s so selfish.  


I could understand what all it felt like, the pain. As if the world was made of it. It very well might be.


I was empathic, very empathic. I could understand all too well how it felt to be unwanted; the horror, and the pain. I could tell what the acute grief felt like, the heart wrenching pain of losing someone close. I could feel the bonds between groups of people. Not realizing that no one else could feel this, I had lived with it. Only now did I start to experiment, to see to what extent I could feel.


It felt like a metal cord, or a string, connected to my mind. It depended on how close they were, physically and mentally. At school it hurt, a massive head ache when I thought of it, for everyone there was my friend. I loved everyone equally. They’re friendships and groups I could feel as well, but never the teachers.


I was forced to feel what it felt like to watch someone sever that bond, to cut it as if it were butter. It was easily the worst thing I felt, and I felt it keenly, like a knife. People go through this too often.  


Why were people hurt? Why afraid? How could friendships true be torn apart so easily? How could people not trust each other? It felt like the weight of the world was on me.    


I sighed, leaning onto a moss-covered tree, and fell into a deep sleep, with the sounds of the birds and the brook around me. I dreamed that someone understood what it felt like, that some one knew the feeling… that someone loved me enough to know.


***


I awoke cold and covered in dew. But I didn’t care, this was the first night I had slept without any interruptions from my mind.


I had dreams any other time I tried to sleep. Dreams of death, dreams where my friends were torn away from me, burned in flames, shot by murders with faces of black, friends who drowned. All of them… I couldn’t save. The horror of it tore into my soul, and I often would curl into a ball, so scared. It could happen… and it had. She was gone, Katerina. She may have been the ‘popular’ girl, and not the nicest, but she was still a human, her life was valuable, and I couldn’t help her. I was dumb enough to believe that she would fix her own problems. It was my fault… No one can fix their own problems… even if they’re hero is inside of them, it’s trapped in a thing called Love. Love has a grip of iron, it won’t let go. How could it? It liked your hero. It wants to keep it. All locked up where no one can find it.


I stared up at the sunlight. It was blocked by tall towers of steel. Pollution and smog blocked the stars. I hated it. I hated every little thing about the city. And yet, here in New York, I lived. I had lived here for my entire life, only leaving to visit Ohio, where my relatives lived, once a year. I had loved it. I wanted to live there someday, with a family. But I would miss the park, in which I sat. But would I?


I walked home. A dreary rain had kicked up and I slogged through it, wishing I was beneath the trees and the blue sky. I got home by lunch and I was Gaten again. My happy face gave away nothing as I wished desperately that someone would tell me to stop faking.


Not so.