suicide

One of my classmates killed himself this evening. Rich Croasmun, a sixteen-year-old boy, felt that life was not worth living. I didn’t know Rich very well, but I am shocked, upset and angry, as are many people. I knew Rich from chemistry class. I noticed him on the first day of school – curly blondish hair, glasses and some of the cutest dimples I’ve seen in a long time. He was a weezer fan; he wore a weezer t-shirt in the first week of school. I always wanted to make friends with Rich, but being the shy girl that I am I never thought of anything to say. I’d sit in the back of the class and stare at him in the hopes of an inspiration but one never came. He seemed like a nice kid. When I left school one of my regrets was not talking to him. Now, he’s dead, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

I can’t help but wonder what Rich’s mother and father will do when they wake up tomorrow, if they sleep tonight. How would you feel? Numb, most likely. Then the terrible feelings would crash in: What could I have done? Why didn’t I spend more time with him? The truth is that a lot of Rich’s friends and family will be feeling guilty. I feel guilty, and I barely knew him. I’m enraged that I couldn’t think of anything to say, that I was too tongue-tied to reach out to the one person who, it turns out, really needed it. I’m at a loss. I couldn’t help him.

Suicides and suicidal people make me very, very angry. Being the one of the ops of a depression channel, I battle suicidal people and other assorted depressives on a fairly regular basis. I also battle myself on this issue, and I’m utterly ashamed of myself. I know it’s selfish to want to die, but so many people feel helpless and alone. It’s criminal. When I encounter such a thing I get angry; no one should ever have to feel that desperate. There are people who care; people to whom you’ve never even talked care, and the depressives in question never seem to realize. When someone dies, a lot of people get upset. Each death is a loss of opportunities, and the loss of someone who could have been a friend someday. Suicides are more potent. The death radiates out in circles of pain and confusion, starting with the closest family members and friends. Those people’s loved ones are affected, and so on. Also, classmates such as my friends and myself are stunned, confused and lost in a sea of emotions. Even if some of us didn’t know Rich, it still hits close to home. We wonder what happened to cause him so much pain. We are all him, we are all pretty much in the same place. We wonder who’s next. After that, little ripples occur everywhere – the man who saw it on the news, the teacher who saw him every day in class and didn’t think to ask him if everything was okay. The human race cares about its members. Despite what anyone thinks, no one truly goes unmissed when he dies. Hundreds of thousands of people will be affected by Rich’s death, in little ways and in big ones. Who knows what could have happened had he not died? Life has to change its pattern once again to recover what has been lost this evening.

I don’t know how to solve this problem, and I don’t know what to do next. All I ask is that if you’re suicidal, take a deep breath and ask for help. There are those of us who are willing to give you time and patience and love, but we can’t always tell when you’re in trouble. There are many avenues you can take to get help. Parents, doctors, teachers, suicide hotlines and chat rooms are all good places to start. Just pick up the phone or turn on the computer or just yell "help." Someone is always listening.

- Emily Catherine Keer, November 25, 2001

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