Mary called me at some ungodly hour of the night. I can’t complain—she’s my girlfriend.

“Jasmine?” she said. I could hear the tears over the phone. I was used to it. Another one of her break downs.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“I’m just tired of all this shit.”

I guess she meant her quiet life, in her warm house, with her loving mom.

“I’m nothing, and I’ll never be anything,” she said.

“That’s not true. You know it’s not. Just try to put your mind to something. You’re beautiful and smart.”

“Then how come no one wants me?”

“I want you. I love you.”

She never says it back anymore. I only get tears. She won’t listen to me. She won’t get a job, she won’t talk to her friends. She just cries.

“I can’t convince you to love yourself.”

Or me.

“I can help you,” I said.

“I just don’t want to deal with it anymore,” she said.

For once, I heard resolve in her voice.

“I don’t want to be here anymore.”

I was tired.

“Then, I guess this is goodbye?” I said.

Mary sniffled. “Yeah.”