My Actions Are Not My Own

There was a girl I knew in high school. I got to know her really well my junior year. She was the type of girl who was involved in everything. She was a straight A student and always auditioned for plays, joined the clubs in school, and volunteered in her free time. When other people approached her, she always knew how to make them smile and was friends with almost everybody. But I was the only one that could see who she really was.

In reality, she was incredibly overwhelmed. On top of everything she was involved in, this girl was also juggling a part time job on the weekends. Though she had friends, all of them would rather have had her listen to their problems than vice versa.

There was this guy she liked. He was the first guy she had ever liked, really. He was the only one who bothered to ask her how she was feeling and discuss things in depth. They would spend hours debating or just pondering life and how the world worked. But then he started dating one of her closest friends. From there, I saw her sink even further into depression. She stopped caring about everything. Her grades, her friends, even herself. That was when she turned to self-destruction. This girl hated the idea of drugs or alcohol, but ironically, she was willing to pick up a blade and start cutting. I never understood that about her.

This went on for months. She told nobody. The days ran together and she seriously considered ending her life. Still, the only person who seemed to care was that one boy who would smile at her and ask her how she was.

Yet, much to everybody’s surprise, that same boy beat her to it. One day he was there, and the next he was gone. You would think that after hearing of his suicide, this girl would completely fall apart. But what astounded me was that she learned from his mistake. She pulled through her experience as a stronger person. After realizing the pain and grief of losing somebody close, she promised to never make anybody endure the same thing she did.

That girl was me, and that boy’s name was Brandon. Thanks to him, the girl in this story no longer exists and I realize that my actions are not my own. Everything I do affects those around me and every person I have ever touched in my life. That being said, this is what I believe: suicide is one of the most selfish acts a person can ever commit, and never again will I allow myself to be weak at the risk of hurting those around me.