My mom once asked me "If you could be anything in the world, what would you be?"

I remember that I had told her that I would be a rainbow. She had of course smiled and asked me why. My reasoning was quite simple really. Rainbows were pretty, and everyone loved them.

If I had thought about it more, I would have said that it was because whenever someone saw a rainbow shining up in the sky overhead, they felt so happy. Even if someone had just died they felt so much better after seeing a rainbow.

But that was my answer when I was eight. I'm nineteen now, and just out of high school. My mom had always wanted me to go to collage, but even if I did, what would I go in for a degree in?

I have thought about being a singer, since I love to sing so much, but there's a problem with that idea.

It doesn't help people.

And I want to spend my life helping people that need it.

Maybe it's because my father left my mother before I was born and I grew up without a father that I want to help people. Maybe it's because I have no idea what to do what my life. Maybe it's because I want to look good in the eyes of others.

I don't know.

But I want to help people.

If I had to guess the reason why though, picking one out of the hundreds of possibilities, I would say that it's because of that boy I saw a few years ago.

The way he was trying to be so brave, but the pain of his disease had been so evident on his face.

It sounds very stalkerish, I know, but after overhearing the boys name from a woman whom I supposed was his mother, I had…well, I had kind of started internet stalking him. Ya, I know. I'm a stalker. But anyways, I just wanted to know who he was, and why his mother had been watching him like he might keel over dead at any second.

But after following (ya, I know, basically stalking) him for a week or two, something terrible happened.

He died.

Now that I think about it, I should have talked to him. Contacted him. Anything.

But I didn't.

I could have helped him.

But I didn't.

I wish I could have helped him. He may still be alive.

My mom seemed to notice something was wrong with me in the weeks following the boys death. She told me I should get a job. To keep me busy until I decided what to go to collage for, and so I could also earn some extra money so I wouldn't have to keep asking for *coughtakingcough* money from her.

I couldn't think of a job I would be interested in, but mother dear came up with something for me.

She had gone to the hospital recently to have her left shoulder, which had always hurt, and had found out that they were looking for younger people my age to help keep some of the young patients occupied so that they wouldn't get lonely or bored.

Since it was volunteer work, I wouldn't be getting paid, like my mom had wanted, but she told me that if I continued to go, she would pay me herself.

I agreed as soon as she brought it up.

It was my chance to help people.

This is just the prologue to this story. I will be more likely to continue if people like this. So please tell me what you think!