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A while back, in English class, one of my classmates, Natasha said that she didn’t know how anyone could do something so stupid as to kill themselves. I just couldn’t believe it. She said it in a way which implied that she thought anyone who would commit suicide was stupid, or didn’t know what they were doing.
The fact is, people don’t commit suicide for the hell of it, or because they’re cowards. They kill themselves because, in their mind, ending their life is the only option. They feel alone in the world, like everything would be better if they weren’t around anymore. When I heard her say that, it was like every ignorant person in America was speaking through her at the same time.
I almost walked out of the room right then and there, and I would have, if the most amazing girl in my class didn’t speak up. I didn’t notice her at first, that’s how upset I was about what Natasha said. Before I left, though, Mark elbowed me in the ribs. Mark was my best friend, and he knew how much of a crush I had on Annie.
“Excuse me, Natasha, but I think you’re missing the big picture.” She spoke calmly, like she would in any other conversation, but I could sense her tensing up. Looking at her really hard, I thought she was fighting extremely hard to keep her cool. “People don’t kill themselves for the hell of it, they do it because whatever they’re going through is hurting them so much that they feel the only way to end the pain is to end their life. How could you possibly be so insensitive to think that suicide, or even self abuse in general, is something to just toss aside like that?”
She sat back down, and I could tell she really was fighting for her control. She was breathing a little harder than she should have been, and her face was bright red. Suddenly, it wasn’t her face, or even her quickened breathing that I was worried about. What drew my attention when she sat down was her wrist. I felt stupid for not noticing it before, because now that I saw them, it was almost impossible to miss the crossing lines covering both of her wrists.
I would have to be blind not to notice them, but then I realized that, outside of English class, I never really saw Annie out of class. I was always too nervous to talk to her outside class- hell, I was nervous talking to her in class too- so we never got close. But I never expected that she had, was, or would ever think of attempting suicide. It made me think of all those years ago, back to my older sister, Sarah.