We are the LOST GIRLS

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Report cards, report cards, report cards. That's all anyone was talking about today.

Looking at my own report card, I shrugged. It wasn't like my parents would care anyway. I was satisfied with my grades and did reasonably well, and that was that. Nothing in life was permanent, so I let it be and moved on. Like I always did.

The Hamilton playlist blared in the background, and I smiled and picked up my phone. But that smile quickly vanished when I saw about a thousand derogatory messages from my friend.

I suck.

Life has no meaning.

Grades define me, so that means I'm horrible.

I'm useless.

Nothing is going to cheer me up.

I pursed my lips. Of course, she would be like this. I shouted to the ceiling (what is it with dramatic sequences when you're lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and shouting?), "For crying out loud, why is everyone so freaking depressed all the time?!"

Was it because of the report cards? Definitely. Was it because of the stress? Most probably.

I was stressed, too, for all I knew.

My new friend, a friend whom I'd gotten to know as crazy, outgoing, and as hyper as myself, had left--vanished entirely, without so much of a 'see ya later, alligator skaters,' around a month ago. Now, it was up to me to be that peer counselor for others on the brink of insanity. Not like I wasn't--I'd crossed that line ages ago. But it wasn't the same line that everyone else was almost going to cross--that line was much scarier and even more fatal.

It was like handling two jobs at once. On the one hand, I had to remain sunny, optimistic, and hyperactive. On the other hand, I also had to carry not one but multiple burdens of others complaining about depression and anxiety and all that stuff. Sometimes I wanted to blame that friend so badly for leaving, but I obviously couldn't because I didn't know what was going on with her life either.

I've told myself countless times to stay happy. I've told myself: Remember, you're not the one who's depressed. You're the one who the others count on to help them.

I threw my phone on my pillow and tried to focus on the music. I knew my favorite song was coming up, so I got up, walked to my windowsill, and made sure the windows were open to let the music drift high up to the clouds. For all I knew, someone out there might need the music too.

Oooh, I do I do I do I dooo! Hey!
Oooh, I do I do I do I dooo!
Boy, you got me helpless!
Look into your eyes, and the sky's the limit I'm
Helpless!
Down for the count, and I'm drownin' in 'em...

I smiled subconsciously (even though it still took every fiber of my being not to burst into song on the spot). Suddenly, I heard a whooshing sound and turned down the volume of the music quickly. I whirled around to look at the black canopy of the night sky and wondered why a ball of light was whooshing towards me quickly--WAIT, WHAT?

I yelped, did a chicken dance, and ducked for cover as the ball of light gradually increased in size...

Could it really be?