I am sitting in the driveway, in front of the garage that houses my dad's ancient blue Triumph motorcycle. The scent of gasoline fills my nostrils as tears drip down my face. The phone is pressed against my ear, and I feel as if I'm standing next to the girl I love, telling her that everything is going to be okay. I say it over and over again, but she and I both know that neither of us can say that for sure. I'm pleading with her, begging that she not do it. Begging that she just listen to me and let me fix the world for her. But I cannot make it all better. As much as I try, I know that I have no chance of changing the world to fit her tastes. As much as I want to, I cannot dissolve her problems with only a few words.

She is crying, aware that I am as well. Nicole may not believe me, but I understand how she feels. I know exactly what she is feeling, no matter how many times she denies it. I know the thoughts that are going through her mind, and am convinced that I will do anything and everything to prevent her from ending her own life. I simply will not allow her to do something so catastrophic to herself and to the world around her. She knows I'd kill her if she did anything like that, which is probably why she's still alive to talk to me on the phone today.

What I don't know yet is if I can make her see what I'm feeling. If I can get her to see how truly heartsick I would be if she were to leave the world forever, then I might have a chance at saving the woman that I love more than my own life. She can't go.