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I hear tears and a stuffy nose. My heart screams to help. My body wont move. My arm begins to ache as the phone begins to feel heavy.

But why?

Why is my friend crying? Is it my fault? Yes it is my fault. I feel like my heart was torn out of my chest and thrown to a pack of rabid wolves. I feel like ripping out my hair and watching the blood poor all over my face just to make that mental pain go away.

Her tears are like chinese stars, whipping around and tearing into my flesh. My lack of motion made me an easy target.

Her vivid descriptions of the source of her pain plays over my eyes like a movie I'm forced to watch. Subconcsiously I want her to stop, so I wont go through those feelings she's going through. But I tell myself I must listen, that if I'm to live, I must go through this. This talk was not for me but for her. And if I can't make her feel better, then no one can.

In my head I scream for me to help her and take her to the place she feels most at peace. Heaven. I don't want to kill her and force her there. I want to just help her mind go there when she feels the most pain. A happy place, you could say.

But why is she telling me this now? Why have I not heard this before? Was I blind? I was blind. But what kills me the most is that I'm an empath! I should have known! My mind cries and rips apart my heart piece by piece because I was stupid. I am stupid. I was so blind with love, with self-rightousness, that I was killing her by not asking.

Would she have even talked to me? Oh hell yeah. With one word, she started to cry. If I would have asked, maybe I could have helped her sooner. I could have. I ******** could have helped her sooner and helped her not feel so bad.

I feel...I feel, like running away and never coming back. I want to go to a place, in the middle of the forest and live there.

But I can't. I'm here and I will live. My life has been filled with everyone else. I help them, I beg to help them, and they sometimes will let me. Then when I start to say "You know what, I should be taking care of myself" I get hit by a cannon ball. On it, it reads: "Help!"

I can't turn back time, but I will change the future. My friend needs and I will give it to her.

I hate to make myself look self-rightous, that I'm the only one who can help her, cause I'm not. I know I'm not. She could ask millions of other people there, but she didn't. She asked me. I will not fail her. I will help.