It isn’t often that I’m at a loss for words. In fact, some would consider it a damn impossibility.
Right now, as I sit here at 11:57 p.m. on June 2, I’m at an utter loss for words.
This morning, I learned that a young woman, about to graduate from the high school I attended, committed suicide.
Less than a month ago, her boyfriend decided the same fate for himself.
There are no words that can make this situation right. Because it’s not right. It’s not right that two young lives were snuffed out like this. It’s not right that they felt like this was an escape. It’s not right that this happened, and continues to happen.
It’s not right.
It’s not right, which means something is wrong.
Suicide is nothing new, and it’s not a new problem for my high school. This current streak, and I’m in disbelief I just used that word, stems back to at least 2004, to my sophomore year.
During my junior year, my locker neighbor of two years, a brilliant senior with a bright future, committed suicide.
He was so close to graduation. So close attending the University of Minnesota, where his skills would be utilized and appreciated. So close to his chance to blossom. So close, yet too soon.
Loss for words.
It’s not right.
Despite being locker neighbors, we weren’t great friends. Sure, we’d talk about classes and school lunch, he’d point me towards the classroom I needed to be in or tell me which teachers to avoid. We had conversations that echo throughout high schools across America.
“How’s it going?”
“Pretty good, you?”
And that’s the problem. We’re an “I’m good” society. We don’t tell acquaintances if we’re struggling, because we don’t think they care. We don’t tell our closest friends if we’re struggling, because we don’t want to embarrass ourselves. We don’t tell our family, because we don’t want them to worry.
So we say, “I’m good.”
Even when it’s not right.
Make it right. For you, for your family, for your friends, for everyone. Every day, you have the ability to change a life. To save a life.
Are you using that ability?