Sparkles. They're Tears.

I thought it would go away. I thought I could go into university this morning, spend all day studying for my test, and sit it and do okay.

"It will never go away, you know." The counsellor told me.

I had arrived to uni in tears, and slowly I was beginning to realise that I would not be able to do anything.

"Why did you come in today." My friends asked me. "You should go home."

"I don't want to be alone."

The counsellor was a tall, skinny man with a funny name and cigarette breath. At first, he didn't say much. He listened to me talk, and sat and stared at me with a sympathetic expression on his face as I cried. I felt very awkward.

He told me I would not have to sit the test, that he would write me a letter and that it would be made up from the rest of my marks. I told him it seemed so meaningless now, that everything seemed so meaningless, and he said,

"That's right. This is about death."

Then, he asked me if Ron's family had been religious, and if I was religious.

"Not really." I told him, on my part.

"Well, maybe this will steer you towards it..." he began, and then continued to tell me how good Buddhism was for him and that when I felt better I should read a book about life and death by the Delai Lama.

Where do they find these people?

Then he hugged me, pressing my face against the worn out fuzziness of his blue jumper, and I felt the stale cigarette odour creeping slowly up my nose. I felt sick.

I have to see him again on Thursday.

After, I went to see Mike. He stopped working and took a break. He gave me hugs and bought me chocolate, and told me I should go home. Or that if I didn't go home, I should go and see him because I was far too sad to be left alone.

I never know what to expect from him, but it is always surprising, and sparkly nice, to know he cares.

For the first time, I have realised that my friends really do care, and that I am not someone who is just there. Not just an ant.

People say good things are coming out of this: realisation and responsibility, appreciation for life, but none of them are worth the sacrifice that had to be made.

Ron's smiling picture stares at me from the newspaper article which screams "Boy dies in car crash", and for some strange reason I am reminded of six years ago, when we were still and school and he would drive us to school at 5am for Rock Challenge rehersals.

It is the same beautiful smile he gave me the last time we said goodbye, five months ago.

A smile that was then, so quickly forgotten.

Today, it is forever engraved in my heart.

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