around the corner and to the left: May 2012

So last night a freshman girl at my high school committed suicide. And it's an eerie feeling. Because I've been there. And we've all been there. But she actually did it, you know? I've thought about it and planned for it and it was very, very real to me- but I didn't do it. I didn't commit suicide. And even though I didn't know the girl personally, it still feels very, very raw. And all day I couldn't help but thinking, is this what my friends would feel like? Is this what would happen if I had done it? Because I was so close, so many times. So close it hurts. This whole thing really, really hurts. And the problem is, I don't feel justification in this hurt. I don't feel like I'm allowed to hurt because I didn't know her personally. And that's so wrong. Because if I'm feeling something, I should be allowed to feel it. And really, that's why people commit suicide. Because they don't feel like they are allowed to feel. They are forced into thinking that they aren't allowed to feel what they are feeling and so then it all builds up, this terrible great big amount of sadness and anger and joy and frustration and life gets really, really hard to live. So hard, that there is no choice but to take the easy route. And I know this because I've been there. I've been told over and over I'm not allowed to feel unhappy. I'm not allowed to be pessimistic. I'm not allowed to feel anything but happy. Nothing. But the fact is, life is not all happy. Life is sadness and anger and hurt and frustration and passion and compassion. Life is more than one overrated, socially acceptable mood. And from this whole suicide, and this whole rebirthing of my own personal darkness, I've grown thankful. I am so thankful. Because about two summers ago, there was this one night that I was at my best friend's house. And we were laying on her bed reading magazines and eating oreos and she was going through a rough patch with her boyfriend. (Very teenage girl-esque, I know.) And we started talking about me, and I was talking about how hopeless I felt and lost and confused and wrong and all about the molesting and the anorexia and I said to her, "To be honest, I'm really not sure I'm going to make it through high school. I'm betting on 20 max." And she looked at me and said, "What do you mean?" And I told her about the suicidal thoughts I had been having and all this stuff and blah blah blah. And she said back to me, "Last night, when we were on the phone having that huge fight, well, afterwards, I wanted to kill myself." That was the best thing she could have ever said. Because it gave me justification. She, in that one statement, allowed me to feel the way I felt. Miranda let me feel lost and sad and happy and angry and courageous and beautiful and ugly and all these things. She let me feel them. She didn't tell me to fix them, or throw them away or look on the bright side. She would look me square in the face and allow me to feel the way I did. My one wish for that girl is that she would have had a friend like that. Because my friend saved my life. She gave me two years. And I'm still not through high school. But I've made it this far. And it's been really, really hard. And all I can really say is I wish I had known that girl personally so I could have looked her square in the eyes and say that she can feel however she wants to and that she can do it, she can make it, she can get out.

around the corner and to the left

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Wednesday, May 9, 2012