This is hard, writing without a character…for the first time, I’m showing a side of me that isn’t dramatized up the wazoo, or all fake and bubbly. I’m being honest and truthful here with all of you, I’m here to talk about something we joke about, or try to ignore, but most of us have thought about seriously it at one time or another…

Suicide. It’s like the kid in the back of the class that no one notices till something goes horribly wrong with him. It lingers in our minds – my mind. The first time I though seriously about suicide was the summer before sophomore year. I got into a fight with my parents and I just got so angry… I wanted to make them suffer. That’s one motive: anger, bitterness. But where did it get me? Stuck for a week inside Linden Oaks at Edward’s Hospital, forced to share my deepest secrets with people who, in my opinion, didn’t really care. I faked my way through it, and when I got out, I packed my bags and headed to church camp. There I was able to talk to people who I KNEW cared if I lived or died, and who wanted to help me through it. Eventually, the event faded from my mind, only to linger behind thoughts of school, boys, church. But it didn’t last.

The summer before Jr. year I had another “suicide scare.” It was incidentally after another fight with my parents. When I stormed out of the room, I headed straight for the medicine cabinet in the kitchen. That night I ended up with a stomach full of Tylenol sleeping pills, in the Edward’s Hospital Emergency Room. Ironically, even with an IV in my arm and my mother sleeping uncomfortably in the chair next to my bed, I never fell asleep.

Now I am in no way a “reformed woman.” Just like anyone who has gone through even minuscule tough times, fleeting thoughts about how people would react if I died, who would come to my funeral, fly though my head. Now, I am in no way diminishing how awful the effects of suicide are, neither am I condoning the act. Recently this school year, a friend of many here at Neuqua committed suicide. I personally didn’t know him, but the fact that his life is over, ended by his own hand, scares me. The amount of people who hurt, who were and are distraught, is never worth the ceasing misery of one. It sometimes seems like I would be so much better off dead. But that’s selfish, selfish beyond belief… If I could I would take back those suicide attempts, and rid myself of all the thoughts in my head that could cost me my life. But I can’t.
Everyone experiences trauma, and everyone deals with it differently. I was just challenged with these feelings, and I know it’s a challenge I WILL overcome. But whether I’ll live though it or not? That’s easy. I WILL survive. I WILL be strong, and I will NOT hurt people who have done nothing but care about me. If I have to lock myself away, or surround myself 24/7 with people who love me, I’ll do just that. Because I know suicide is not the answer for me, not anymore. Will I relapse? Maybe. But DAMMIT I will not succumb! With every breath in me I write to you today and I ask every one of you to think of a person who would care if you died. Think of them, and of how much you are loved.

And that, my friends, is why we – why I – choose life.