I turn my hands over, examining them. I feel so insignificant. The world doesn't need me… I'm expendable. Worthless. Nothing.
I wrote these words on my journal, feeling even more depressed than ever before. Why?
Yamamoto Takeshi strolled by on his way home from baseball practice, glancing at my paper from over my shoulder. He read these words, his carefree smile sinking into a frown. He gently paced a rough, calloused hand on my shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"
I hadn't sensed him behind me. Being so totally engrossed in my own self-depression, I had blocked out the rest of the world as I wallowed in self-pity. "T-Takeshi," I stammer. "Wha… what are you doing here?" Turning to him, I hastily try to cover up the dark words with my papers. He sat down next to me on the bench, unshouldering his baseball gear and placed it on the floor. When he turned to me, his face showed genuine concern. "You aren't like this normally… is there something wrong?"
Sighing, I tell him, "I… I don't know what's going on. These people that I think are my friends… they don't seem like they are now. They… They wouldn't care if I died or not. In fact, they couldn't care less!" I tried to laugh, but a tear trickled down my cheek. "My own family wouldn't care. They're so immersed in their little traditions… I… I can't stand it." I broke down, sobbing into my hands. "I'm just… so… so alone. So alone… nobody even wants me around."
I could feel someone embracing me, stemming my tears with soft-spoken words. "You are NOT insignificant. Those people don't seem like your friends? Well then. I'm your friend, _"
"You may not believe it, but most of you friends DO care if you die. You AREN'T expendable. You are unique. One-of-a-kind."
I pulled out of the comforting embrace, wiping the tears from my face. "But… if I die, its even worse. They wont remember me after I die. When I die, nobody will care. I might as well be dead, judging by the way my so called 'friends' treat me."
Yamamoto placed his hands on my shoulders, looking through me,, touching my soul. "Get those ideas out of your head. Don't do this to yourself. It doesn't hurt just you. It hurts others too." A tear left a trail down his dusty cheek. "Don't you see? We care." He grasped me in a tighter embrace.
"Okay," I sniffled wetly into his shoulder. "Hey, Yamamoto…"
"Hm?"
"You smell funky… like sweat and dirt. Take a bath."
