No one Knows me better than Noah
Noah is my best friend. Many days, it seems like he’s my only friend. My only close one anyway. I see lots of people every day at school. But there aren’t many people who know me well. And none of them know me better than Noah. I had a little bit of a breakdown the other day.
I was freaking out about telling my dad about things. Noah could see that I was worried about something. He knows me well enough to see when something’s bothering me. So when he asked me what was wrong, it sort of opened a floodgate. I told Noah everything. I started by telling him about the vision I’d had of him in the arroyo, how I knew I had to go there or he was going to die.
I told him about the visions I’d seen about my mom and Brayden and his girlfriend just before the murder. When I started telling him all the details of it, I just lost it. I told him everything, talking and talking and talking, until, all of a sudden, I couldn’t talk anymore. I just started crying. Tears were running down my face and I couldn’t say a word. I could hardly breathe.
Noah just listened for what seemed like hours. When I started crying, he sat down next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. He hung his head and started to cry too. When we were both done and I could talk again, I just said, “I’m sorry.”
That’s all I could say. Noah looked at me and very slowly started shaking his head. “No, he said softly. “No.” He paused. “You should never, ever be sorry,” he said. “You haven’t done anything wrong, there’s nothing wrong with you and all you can do is your best.”
He continued by telling me that no one could have expected any more of me when I was five years old. And that I’m not responsible for the whole world. He said that if I was able to help anybody at all, even a little bit, it was better than no help at all, even if it didn’t seem like enough. And then he said “Thank you.”
Just very quietly, looking me straight in the eye, he said, “Thank you.” That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that from anyone I’ve helped. And all of a sudden, all the rest of it, all the guilt, all the worry, all the fear and doubt, all of the thinking I was a freak, it didn’t matter anymore. It just didn’t matter.
I realized, after all this time, that I had made a difference to someone. I had helped. And it felt great. And it all clicked. It became clear that I have to do what I can do when I can do it. That’s all I’m capable of. But it’s also what I’m obligated to do. And I want to do it. I want to help. Knowing I have, feels really good.