I look at my reflection in the bathroom and think, Will i be missed.if i die? Do i really have a purpose in this superficial world?
“hurry up, Yaa, youre going to be late for school again!” my mom screams from downstairs.
I take my bag and head to school. I sit in the class and listen uninterested as my first period teacher rambles on about the speed of light. Lately i have lost interest in everything including school activities. My mind is consumed with the hopelessness of ending my life. I look at the teacher and curiously wonder if she can detect the grief in my eyes.
At school, i dont belong to any spesific clique. Even though im a cheerleadear, i dont really hang around with them anymore. I dont belong with the drama students despite the fact that i am the drama club, or the computer kids even though i like learning about computers. Not even Goths, although i listen to heavy metal. I simply cant bring myself to be with particular circle of individuals. I just walk around the hallways, occasionally stopping to chat with some “friends.” I dont even have a best friend. At lunch, i sit and listen to people talk and sometimes even try to participate in the conversation so no one will be suspicious of my sudden change of behaviour.
After cheerleading practice, i go home up to my room and cry and cry because i dont understand where this feeling of depression is coming from, and its overwhelming. I listen to sad songs because i feel better when the pain is directed somewhere else. Every night, before my mom comes home i wash my face to hide any evidence of tears because i know how hard she works and at last thing she needs is to worry about me. We always eat dinner together, and during that time i assured that my health, school and everything in general is fine.
She always says “yaa i know high school can be tough, and if anyone or anything is bothering you just let me know”
Its every time she says these words that i open my mouth and try to tell her about what im going through, but i am so convinced that she will never understand it and that no one will never understand me because i dont even understand myself.
Late one night as i lie in my bed, i look up at the ceiling and think of the many ways to end this misery. I finally come to the conclusion to end my life. As a customary with those who have been decided to kill themselves, i decided to leave my mom a suicide note.
I start with the words “i am sorry” and continue writing, listening my reasons, my everyday success and my lack of interest in everything. I tell her i love her and its best for me to do this and that we will meet up in heaven someday. As i begin to fold the letter, i realize what i am about to do, and im not scared, in fact its comforting to me. Then i think of my mom. I realize i am her only source of hope and happiness in this world. I realize how much pain she will go through. She tries so hard to make me- her only child - happy.
My father left us six months ago to get married to another lady. I cry when i see my selfishness, cry some more when i reread the letter out loud. I collapse on the floor. Maybe death isnt the road to regaining my happiness, because i remember there was a time in my life when i was happy. I sway my weary body as i cry. I wipe aways my tears and head to my mom’s room. I knock the door.
“Yaa, is that you?” her tired voice asks. “Yes, mom,” I respond. I start crying as i walk toward her.
“Whats wrong?”
I tell her everthing. She cries and hugs me, and i feel relieved. After that night, we sought help together and i met a lot of kids in my same situation, and i understood how much better life could be. Ending my life is not the solution to my freedom and happiness. Talking about it, no matter how hard, was a giant step toward healing.
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