Andrea By: Malori Schabloski

By
More by this author
I want you to stop and think about the word hope. What does hope mean to you?
Think about the color yellow. What does yellow mean to you?
To me, it means it's ok. It's ok to ask for help.
Suicide.
It's a disturbing word. It makes some of us feel uncomfortable. Memories may flash through your mind.
Times when you felt like you had no way out, when your best friend didn't want to live anymore, when your older sister died.
I want to talk about Andrea.
She was my big sister. A perfectly normal sixteen year old girl.
She loved to babysit me putting my hair in pigtails, dipping my toes in the lake and then in the sand never letting go of my hand.
At least from what I can remember about her, I know she truly loved me.
I want to talk about depression.
Depression was the state of mind she never came out of.
The deathly disease that had no cure.










Even with the help of doctors, family, and friends nothing seemed to make a difference.
We all loved her dearly and remained clueless to what possibly could have happened to her to make her so unhappy.
Little did we know what really went on behind the scenes.
I want to talk about pain.
Pain is what rotted a hole in the core of her sole.
Her pain was invisible. She had the invisible pain that no one could see through.
The pain that drowned within and never had the chance to surface.
The pain that slowed down the beat of her heart eventually causing it to pound it's one last beat.
The pain that ended her life.
The pain that reminds me of what she went through and gives me the hope and strength today to never give up.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback