I looked to my left. My legs were sticking to my '96 Buick Riviera's leather interior as I noticed the sun setting behind her bleach blonde head. She, sitting in the passenger's side and twirling her hair, refused to look at me. As she cried, I realized that she had not looked me in the eyes since we started this discussion. I had been dealing with clinical depression on and off for my whole life. I knew exactly what she meant as she described the sudden onset of hopelessness, shades of grey, and insecurity that plagued her. How had I not known that she was hurting for so long? It seemed like something I should have noticed about the girl who had been my best friend since grade school.

"I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy..." She said as she hid her face against the side of my door, resting her forehead on the glass.

"I understand. I am here for you...and I love you."

"I love you too." She didn't know what I truly meant though. Probably because we always told each other we loved each other. It had always been true. But at that moment, watching her bare feet rest on my dash, it all made sense. I was in love with her.

"...on top of it all, I am the just deeply unhappy with myself. I hate my body, I hate my personality. I can't stand to be in my own head anymore." She finally looked at me. Her green eyes had never looked so full of color. They contrasted the red that had taken over the rest of her face.

I had kept my composure up until that point only because I was a seventeen year old male. I thought it was required of a young man to be strong. But then, I realized that I had never seen her cry before. She had always been a very solid person in my mind. I looked at her and started to bawl as I grabbed her hand. After a while I leaned over and was embracing her tightly. I never wanted to let go because I never wanted to lose this girl. I thought that if I just held on, she would know that somehow. She was at her low point. She was in tears. She was curled up in a ball. Even then, she was beautiful to me.