Yesterday, a kid who attended the school I work at killed himself.
Today was filled with nothing but sitting around, having flashbacks to when I was in middle and high school, when a couple of students died. Remembering the saddest looks on my teachers’ faces as they just sat there and let us do whatever. Now the role was reversed.
I didn’t know this kid. But part of me felt like I did.
I know what it must’ve been like to take that final walk to the place where it would all end. The final journey. I know what was going through his head.
Some would probably feel some sort of anger, direct some sort of blame towards him. I don’t.
I’m torn between admiration and envy of his bravery, his commitment to it. It’s far too easy to back out of suicide. Our built-in survival instincts do everything in their power to prevent it.
It made me face the fact that I’m past the point when it would’ve been ideal to take my life. 3 years ago, it would have been ideal. Nobody depended on me then. I had no real responsibilities.
I don’t know why I care so much now about my status. It would cause a lot of people a lot of headaches and inconvenience if I did it now. And I can’t imagine what the kids would think if, all of a sudden, their teacher isn’t there anymore.
I can’t do it now. I’m not in that headspace anymore. I don’t know if I ever will get to that point again, but if I do, it would have to be done over the summer or something.
I can’t help but think about how I was in a traffic jam at apparently the exact time the kid died. It delayed a paramedic van trying to get past, racing toward the scene. I couldn’t do much to move out of the way.
In any case, he is at peace. I hope he got what he wanted. He sure got what I wanted.