Energy

Emma walked towards the queue on the bridge. The distinctions of groups were evident—people associated with who they knew. But she was alone; it seemed she was the only one in that position. She took her spot behind the twenty or so others waiting anxiously for their turn—their thrill. Her light brown hair blew across her face in the breeze. Sighing, she pulled a tie over her hand and twisted her hair into a messy bun. The noisy chatter of the excited and nervous group only made her divert her attention elsewhere, to other things, zoning out of the present condition.

A tap on her shoulder startled her from her musings.

"Line's moved up," a boy taller than her with brown hair, sticking out from under the hood of his red zip-up hoodie, pointed at the now 5 feet of empty space between her and the person in front of her.

She nodded, mouthing an apology, and stepped forward. A few in line, retreated to sitting on the ground, and Emma followed suit. Pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, she squinted out to the river, her mind swarming with emotions and thoughts.

"What are you thinking about?"

Emma stared out at the winding snake a moment longer before turning to the same boy sitting two feet away from her cross-legged.

She pursed her lips and rested her head on her knees. She closed her eyes and reopened them still seeing the boy staring curiously at her.

"Nothing interesting," she replied quietly.

"I doubt that," he responded cheekily.

Emma peered at him and raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because someone looking that concentrated is thinking about nothing interesting," he countered.

Emma shrugged and returned her attention to her previous focus. "I find myself increasingly attached to living in the fictional world rather than dealing with reality," she muttered.

"Ah," he nodded his head in understanding. "Want to talk about it? We have a while," he gestured towards the line of sitting companions.

"No," she replied simply.

"Why not? Isn't it easier to talk to someone who you don't know, someone you will probably not see again, rather than revealing it to one who will be present everyday in your life?" he questioned.

Emma shook her head and kept her mouth shut and diverted her eyes away from him. She felt a tap on her knee and a hand waving in front of her face. She followed the arm up to the owner's face and saw the boy looking at her with a smirk. "So?"

Emma sighed and glared at the boy who seemed satisfied with her response. "Either way you are burdening someone else with your soul, with your negative thoughts, emotions, energies; it's selfish to make someone carry that with them. Which is why I'm not saying anymore, it's not necessary to make another, especially a stranger, carry the weight of your own inability to deal with personal issues," Emma finished with a tone of wanting to end the discussion.

"It's only selfish if you see it that way. If a person offers their solace and sympathy and relief, then that person is being selfless; they are providing you with relief. Everyone needs someone to relieve them of their negative energies occasionally to purge themselves. Holding in emotions can be harmful and dangerous to your mentality and eventually lead to a strain in every aspect of life," he pressed on.

Emma shook her head and sighed, "The problem is people become agitated if someone constantly complains. That causes me to only shut myself up even more because, as much of a flaw and unflattering characteristic it is, I'm very self-conscience. The few that don't, take on everything you hand them, they not only have to carry around their own negative burdens but another's. That can put a strain on them if it happens enough. Sometimes people just need to keep things to them instead of complaining all the time. They need to learn to deal with their problems and not always run to another for help. So that's what I'm doing—I'm dealing with my shit, and not weighing someone else with it."

The silence that followed her speech made Emma sigh and chuckle frustrated, "I'm being hypocritical of myself."

"No; well kind of, but I really don't mind," Emma looked curiously at the stranger. "At times we need someone who has a firmer grasp on things to take stuff on. It's a circle. I have a firmer grip on things, I guess, and am able to carry your weight until we switch roles, maybe not us exactly but someone else. But in the end we are always relieving to someone, it’s a necessary cycle. Don't feel selfish for needing to release negative energy," the boy replied looking her straight in the eye.

Emma shook her head, "I don't even know you and I could argue with you all day about this. But I don't have the energy too, sadly."

"What is really the matter? Why is fantasy more interesting than reality?" he continued.

"Why do you care so much?" she contradicted.

"Because I hate to see someone so beautiful and thoughtful to not be having the time of her life," he grinned.

Emma rolled her eyes, "Because in fiction you can make it go the way you want. Even if it doesn't end up happily, it's still comforting. Reality kicks you in the ass constantly. It pushes you into a never ending black hole and steals your sanity. It crawls deep within your soul and eats it away. As soon as you have something good happen there is always the contrast that breaks you down and repaves, throwing you into a never ending cycle of constant torment. Nothing is certain; nothing is actually real, it's all too fucked up to have any meaning."

"That's a very pessimistic way of looking at life."

"I'm sorry?" Emma replied slightly agitated.

"Why are you so gloomy about life anyways?"

Emma glared at the stranger as they moved farther up in line. She really didn't feel like sharing her thoughts to some random guy she met in this line. She didn't even reveal any of this to her best friend. But the way he looked at her, with genuine concern made her sigh and reply after choosing her words carefully, "Life has smashed me against a brick wall and left me with broken bones and no help. It has tied me to an anchor and tossed me into a category five hurricane. It has dropped me from a plane without a parachute. Life has done nothing for me to even consider having an optimistic outlook on it."

He looked at her like he was waiting for more. She took a deep breath and continued. "I feel second best to everyone. I feel overlooked and invisible. I haven't been asked about my well being from anyone lately, and the only reason I can think of is because no one cares anymore. It's not like it's hard to tell I'm not in good spirits. I've buried myself even further around others because nothing is important. I'm not important. I've never felt so suffocated and alone. I can’t seem to trust anyone anymore. It seems like everyone is slipping through my hands like sand and then I realize it's me who is doing so. I'm falling through the cracks into microscopic particles to blend in with my surroundings, never to be found again. To be crushed under the lives of others. To be subjugated to everyone's pressure."

When silence arose again, Emma zoned out. Her mind was racing per usual, but this time thoughts of the attractive male seeped in. After a few minutes of mind battling, she shook out of her thought and glanced at him. She sighed, noticing the furrow in his forehead—he was thinking. She returned her gaze to the landscape around.

"Sometimes the edge serves as more than a friend than you thought it would be," she listened as he sang softly staring her straight in the eyes. "And the pages you write in your journal each night are your only release. And the mask you put on it’s like words in a song but there’s more to be seen. And the failures you see don’t seem failures to me here at all." He paused as she nodded her head for him to continue.

"Oh, I’m begging you no. There’s more life left to go. Oh, I’m begging you please cause I don’t want you to leave," he sang on beautifully.

"Alone as you walk through a crowd and it's awkward, like nobody sees. And you can't help but wonder would anyone come after you if you’d leave. So a pain grows inside and a fear comes alive like you’ll never be free. But there’s no pain you feel that I know love can't heal here at all," Emma felt her eyes starting to water.

"Oh, I’m begging you no. There’s more life left to go. Oh, I’m begging you please cause I don’t want you to leave," he held one of her hands and looked her in the eyes.

"To leave me here on my own. There’s nothing to run from. Oh, there’s nothing but fear inside you. Oh, I just hope I can find you and tell you that I know you’ll smile again," he swiped his thumb across her cheek catching a tear that fell.

"Oh, I’m begging you no. There’s more life left to go. Oh, I’m begging you please cause I don’t want you to leave," he finished with his hands framing her face.

"I don't want you to leave," he whispered.

This made the tears she was trying to hold back, spill out. This foreign feeling of care shook through every part of her body as she felt arms gently wrap around her small frame. Her face softly collided with the red cotton hoodie as circles were being traced in her back. She heard a soft "shh" with each puff of warm breath that collided with her ear. She felt her body be picked up into a bridal style carry as she slightly shifted to nuzzle into his shoulder continuing her breakdown. She felt them move forward and realized how ridiculous she probably looked to the line of people as she cried into the shoulder of some stranger she just met.

After a couple minutes of humiliating crying, Emma wiped away the tears and smeared makeup off her face and mumbled an apology about the stains left on the boy's hoodie.

"Don't even worry about it," he replied framing her face. "You know, you don't have to be alone," he whispered searching her eyes.

Emma sniffled and stared at him incredulously.

"You don't have to be alone," he said a little louder moving his hands to holding hers.

She moved her eyes between his hands and eyes contemplating the situation. Her mind, rather than her heart, overtook her judgment and she freed her hands from his. She shook her head," How can you say that? You don't know me, I don't know you. All you know about me is that I'm lonely. Hell, we don't even know each other's names. For all I know, you could just be trying to get something out of me," she knew when she said it, she didn't believe but it escaped none the less. "How am I supposed to trust you, to believe anything you say to me?"

"Because all guys that are out for a fuck actually takes the time to listen and try and help, right?" he said slightly agitated. "I'm sorry if I came off that way, I was only trying to help. I've known someone who looked this way, this lonely before, and I don't want the same thing to happen to someone else that happened to them. Open yourself up! You don't have to cage yourself anymore, there are people who care—you just have to open your eyes. See me!" he instructed fervently laying a hand on his chest. "Right here, right now," he pointed to the ground in front of them. "I promise you that I want you to be happy again, I want you to realize life is beautiful and you have the energy to do anything you want to."

Emma gaped at the boy pleading with her through intense staring. Her mind was flooded with everything that had happened in a matter of a half hour. She searched his eyes thinking rapidly of what to respond with.

"Miss?" Emma snapped out of her trance and looked at the man waiting and gesturing to the cord. He eyed her impatiently as if to say "Now or get out of line."

"I'm sorry," she whispered to the boy waiting for her response and turned to walk towards the man waiting for her.

"Wait," she spun around to be face to face with her line companion. "Do you trust me?"

Emma again searched his eyes anxiously and opened her mouth to answer—

"Are you two, together?" the man asked impatiently.

"Yes," she watched as the boy responded and then stared down at her, watching for her approval.

She swallowed difficultly and nodded. He tenderly took her hand in his and they walked up to the man.

Two minutes later they were strapped in, his hands lying on her hips, her hands resting on the side of his shoulders.

"Before we go, what's your name?" Emma asked shyly.

"Alex," He grinned.

"Emma," she smiled warmly back.

"Ready," he asked.

"Yea," Emma nodded. "I trust you," she breathed.