I was falling I couldn't see the ground Below me Black, only Blackness Was there ground or was It nothing? Abyss To swallow me up Suck me in Hold me down Pain Was it pain or was It nothing? Delusions Life flashing before my Eyes Going to hit, Hit ground Bottom Death Now there was an End to my Fall, rushing Towards me Prayer, hope Closer, closer NO! I sit bolt upright in my bed, sweat streaming down my face in beads. I gasp for breath, trying to assure myself that it had all been a dream. I never had hit the ground, I was alright. I remember my grandmother telling me about falling dreams, how if you hit the ground, you die. Whether or not it was a superstition, it had control over me still. I lay back down trying to decide what had made me fall. A secret, kept through the years, weighing me down? It has to be, I knew that. I wasn't supposed to fall. Did I jump? No, I didn't choose to fall. I didn't choose this. It's just the way I am. God, I need a cigarette. Instead of fumbling for the pack in the darkness, I try to sleep. Let a bleak, dreamless sleep engulf me. Sleep proves to be impossible. When I've almost drifted off, I hear the springs of the twin bed a few feet from mine screech. Then hysterical sobbing. I try for a minute to ignore it, I can't deal with anyone else's problems right now. Too many of my own. But I feel compassion, and that betrays me. "D? Howie, man, are you ok?" The sobbing continues. "Oh, Howie. Gimme a minute." I roll out of bed, and search for a pair of pants. Pulling them on over my boxers, I stumble towards the other bed. Pulling back the covers, I tell him to move over. He does and I lay down. Immediately, his arms are around me. He is crying with all his strength, with his face buried in my chest. Hiccuping, shuddering sobs rack his small frame. I rub his back and murmur condolences, trying to console him. Eventually, his crying eases. His breathing becomes more regular, then slows down and deepens. I feel him fall asleep in my arms. This wasn't the first time I've had to comfort him. Since his sister died, he's been dreaming. About her. About how he never got to say goodbye. In these dreams, he is near her again. He tries to talk, but she won't listen. She tells him that she never mattered to him as much as his career does. She tells him that if he had been there, she would've had the strength to hold on. She tells him one more thing, but I'll never know what it is. Howie tries to tell me about these dreams, but that's the furthest he's been able to get without breaking down. I wish he could tell me. Not only am I his best friend, I'm the one helping him through this. I hold him to me as he sleeps, and wonder. What to tell him. When to tell him. How to tell him, and why I haven't told him yet. Told him that I love him, not just as a friend. That I want to be more to him. That he is the reason that I didn't give up when it got too hard. That the one thought the kept me from slitting my wrists that one time was his name. I can't tell him that, I know. Things would change between us. If he didn't hate me after I told him, it would be different. He wouldn't come to me with his pain. He wouldn't trust me to hold him if he was hurting. And I want to be there for him. He was always there for me. He brought me back when I thought I was dead. He's been the best friend I've ever had, and I can't afford to run the risk of losing him. So I hold him as tightly as I can, hoping for peace in his arms. Everything will be ok in the morning.