Her smile was the biggest, brightest. Her great energy was always bouncing around with her as her spirit radiated off of her. Her heart was big, loving everyone and everything until they gave her a reason not, too, and even then she would still love them. She could make you feel happy or make you laugh with the simplest things. She was so beautiful. Inside and out. But, she also was sick. Mentally and physically.
Chronic Respiratory Pain Syndrome. This was the biggest one of her physical problems. She would miss school for weeks, even months, at a time and when she did come she was sometimes in a wheel chair. She had to struggle with the constant pain her disease caused her, she couldn't go to school like a normal teen, couldn't do cheerleading like she had loved to do, missed out on big school or social events, had to deal with the people that gave her hate, and was constantly sick to her stomach. But, she never lost who she was, never let it change the wonderful human being she was.
Mentally, she was in pain also. How could someone with her life not be? She was so skinny that if she sucked in her stomach, her ribs would easily protrude out. It was a sight that stabbed you in the heart. The scars on her wrist that would loosely be covered by bracelets always made me nauseous, not because they were gross, but because that was one of my best friends... My beautiful, strong, joyful, kind-hearted, role model of a best friend that would always lighten up the room with her presence, had an act. The act had only been on at school or with a group of people, but it was a damn good act.
Even when she was struggling the worst, she still was her positive self. I remember surprising her one night at her house when she had missed school for months and gotten sick again... The memory of her pale face lighting up into a bright smile and her messy hair bouncing all over the place as I had walked in the door, giant bear first, has been forever grained into my mind and I smile every time I think about it, but then the picture of her lying in a coffin suffocates the image and takes over my mind.
I remember the day like it was yesterday.
Something felt off that day and the second my phone started buzzing, I knew something was wrong.
I still remember the way my heart started beating faster than it ever has before, like it was purposely trying to go so fast that it would just stop. Give out. Honestly I just wanted it to give out as I got the message that my best friend, was dead. Suicide.
I was sitting in the back of our car at the time and for a while I just sat there in disbelief, denial. I kept on saying no. No she's not. You're lying. But, why would they be lying about this? Why?
It wasn't until my mom and sister started laughing at something that I started to sob. I could barely get the words out to tell them what happened. It was one of the hardest things I had to say, still is. I remember how the atmosphere of the car changed in a second. My sister just looked back at me through the rear view mirror, in awe, and my mom kept on asking "what?" making me say it again. Making my sobs turn into wails.
All I wanted to do was text my best friend at time, talk to her, but I felt like I was tied down, not being allowed to do that. And that feeling still consists to this very moment.
My mom tried to comfort me, even moved into the back seat with me, but I didn't want my parents comfort. It made everything to real.
I ended up going to my other best friends house (who had also been best friends with her. It was us three against the world).
The drive to her house was slow and the exit from my car and running into her arms was even slower.
We were in denial. So much denial that after the first little bit of sobbing, we acted like nothing had happened, because we didn't want it to have happened. We didn't want it to be real. Who would?
I didn't sleep that night. Just rocked back and forth, sobbing into a towel so I didn't soak my bed. My family occasionally came into my room to check on me, asking if I needed anything, but the only thing I could get out besides sobs was "I'm sorry." or "No."
I couldn't bring myself to get up the next day, let alone go to school. How the fuck was I supposed to face all the people I hate? Be forced to learn about shit that now seemed so far way? So beyond pointless? How was I supposed to face the people that used her death for attention? How was I supposed to face my other friends and not break down when they asked me if I was okay? OF COURSE I WASN'T FUCKING OKAY.
The next few days went by in a fuzzy blur of denial and darkness. Denial was probably the worst part. I knew that she was dead, that she wasn't coming back, but I couldn't process it... Not until the day of her funeral. It hit me like a 500 pound brick straight into the chest when I saw her lifeless body. I lost it.
Sometimes I would sob, getting hugs from people that suddenly started to care. Where were you when she fucking needed it? Other times, I just stood at her coffin, looking at her peaceful face. Peaceful.
I stayed at her viewing all morning and all night, even missing some of my birthday party. Yep, that's right... Birthday party. My family was all over at my house at the moment, waiting to celebrate me living another year. I found it crazily hysterical. How I was celebrating living right after I had been "celebrating" death. How I got to be reminded that I was alive, when I just felt dead inside.
But, I went home, put on my act, and acted like I hadn't even come back from a funeral home. I even tricked myself for a little bit. But, it also could have been the fact that it was my full family over, cousins and everything, and I loved them so much.
A few days later it was the anniversary of my Grandpa's death, my other best friend. It was torture.
Going back to school was the worst, though. I can't even count on my fingers how many people and old friends used her death for attention from boys. It made everything worse. It seemed like everyday I had to go to the bathroom when it was empty and just sob and kick the fucking doors in. We had always been fighting and it beats the shit out of me while we were friends! But, the day after I found out about her death and I missed school, this girl started to subtweet about me how "it wasn't a good reason to miss school." or how "she was friends with her, too, but she's not making a big deal over it." And only a few months after the death she tweeted a picture of vitamin pills and said "This is my goodbye letter." AS A JOKE. MY BEST FRIEND KILLED HER SELF BY OVERDOSING ON PILLS AND YOU POST THAT?! DON'T JOKE ABOUT SUICIDE. EVER. PUT YOURSELF IN OTHER PEOPLES SHOES.
Along with that, I was getting friendly reminders that suicide was a sin. That my friend wasn't going to be in heaven. That stung every time I heard it and it started to take its toll. But, I also never believed it. Never.
The next few months after that were a blur of darkness. A blur of losing almost all my friends, of lost interests, of putting on acts, of self harm, mood swings, anger issues, of loneliness, of pure sadness, of guilt, of hatred, and of just nothingness. I was going insane.
Guilt. Guilt is one of those silent killers. The silent killer that rests on your shoulders and reminds you that you could have saved your best friend. That you could have noticed the signs, or been a better friend, or just have gotten your head out of your ass.
She had thought that if she killed her self, people would get over it, that it was going to hurt, but we would move on. But, god was she wrong. You have no idea how much your death will effect the ones you love, or even just people in general. And if you think people don't care, you are wrong.
My own share of suicidal thoughts bounced around in my head a ton. And there was no way to get them out besides cutting a little deeper with the razor. I watched as my other best friend did the same, but we weren't exactly as close as we were before.
Therapy wasn't a very appeasing option for me, there is no way in hell that I can open up to a stranger that looks at me funny and gives me weird gum. No way. I didn't want to talk to people, to open up to them.. I didn't want them to know. Plus, I didn't have any other people left to open up to, so I was getting the farthest thing from help. Hell, I even noticed my sister, the person I was looking up to, had started to harm herself. I don't know why she does, but it's just another dagger through the heart.
I was dealing with this all alone and that was the worst possible thing for me to do. But, little did I realize that I had people right in front of me that cared, that wanted to listen. Maybe they weren't who I would have wished they were, but they were there.
And I'm here. I'm here right now and I pushed through. I conquered suicide... in a way.
I still struggle and battle depression everyday, but things do get better. I have learned that life is worth living. I don't know how I deserved anything that happened to me, but I know that I deserve to live. I deserve the chance to show the world that tries to tear me down that I'm better than it. And when I have a life of my own, a family of my own, and happiness I will stand on top of the world with pride.
But, to get that pride you can't give up. You can't stop fighting. No matter how hard it gets.
Maybe you deal with bullying, or family problems, or friend problems, or anything that hurts you; you can't let it defeat you. No matter how small the problem may seem, you are human and it will effect you, but you can't let it change you. You can't let it become you.
You can get through this. I did. It was fucking hard and it still is, I'm not gona lie, but it will be worth it. Suicide is not the answer. You have people that care about you, people that want to listen, so let them! Let them help you!
You can handle anything life throws at you.
I love you ALL and if it weren't for mibba, expressing myself in my writing, and the amazing people i've met on here, I wouldn't be where I am today. :)
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