Young Writers Society

Note: Contains mention of self harm and suicidal tendencies. If you are triggered or upset by any of this, please do not read for your own safety.

--

When I was thirteen years old my friend attempted suicide.

I had just met him: A quiet boy with curly brown hair and dark, sad eyes that spoke volumes.

He smiled like a man twice his age that's walked the same path to the same job for

So many years he's stopped caring.

--

The first time we really talked was in cooking class.

To a casual observer he looked like a moody teenager with a cynical sense of humor.

To me he looked like a nice guy with a love for Steven Universe and My Chemical Romance.

Then he showed us the place he'd cut a zigzag on his wrist and said he wished it hadn't healed.

He played with the knives.

He talked about how he hated living, how his parents didn't love him.

Of course, he said he was joking.

His laugh never did sound quite right.

--

A few days later he didn't come to school.

My friend and I worried, we asked his friends where he was.

They didn't know.

He walked into class a week later like nothing had happened.

I didn't say anything because I was young and didn't know what that really meant.

Kids were absent all the time.

In my mind, nothing could go wrong.

--

It wasn't until a little while after the incident that I realized my friend's life was in danger.

He said his parents kept bleach in the basement and that now that it was unlocked he could

End it all.

When the bell rang for us to go home I dropped my stuff and held him close.

I told him it was okay.

It wasn't okay.

--

That was the first time I saw what depression could really do to you.

It was nothing like I read in books.

It was crippling--for the victim and for the person that has to watch their friend break.

It hurt my heart to see my friend fake a smile every day to reassure us that everything was fine.

That he wasn't hurting.

That his boyfriend wasn't breaking his heart.

That his therapists weren't making him feel worse.

That we didn't need to worry even though we saw the way he sank into himself 

When he thought we weren't watching him,

How his smile dropped from his face like a heavy weight when he thought we weren't looking.

How his eyes always looked ancient, as if they had seen more than a 

Lifetime of torment and heartache.

--

He isn't the only kid I know who's like this.

My friend from church showed us scars on their legs and asked if they should 

Cover them with a longer dress because they weren't sure if they were too prominent.

My girlfriend texts me every week saying everything she loves is taken away from her;

Anything good in her life is washed away by the tides of poor luck.

My two friends that helped the boy that smiled like he was about to cry?

Every day they're crying on the inside.

--

I watch them hurting and I wish there was something I could do to make all their problems

Disappear.

Make their hurting go away, take them away from the horror that is life and wrap them in my arms.

Tell them it's okay to cry. 

Tell them you're going to be alright.

--

My mother tells me I'll get swept up into the hurricane that is their lives, their hell.

I speak words of reassurance and love anyway.

I tell them it gets better.

But the truth is

I'm not sure.

I worry late at night that they're sitting in their rooms crying, thinking nobody loves them.

I worry that things won't get better for them.

That they'll still be here ten years later with smiles that don't quite reach their eyes,

Smiles that scream help me.

Smiles that should be called pleas for acknowledgement.

Smiles that speak of need, of acceptance, of release.

Smiles that make my heart clench every time I see them because I know they're not really smiles.

They're silent sobs.

--

But I want to tell you that even though I don't know what lies in the future,

Even though I don't know if things will get better or not,

You have to have hope.

Seek out those you love or those who love you.

Let them see your shattered smile.

Let them embrace you.

Let them see you, see how you're hurting and let them heal you, little by little.

--

As a great song writer once said, "Dying is easy.....living is harder."

The people that keep going despite all the pain and hate, they challenge themselves.

They take courage.

They believe that things will be better.

Believe.

Hope.

And your weary smile may one day reach your eyes.