I guess this is as good a place to post this as any. I wrote this in March, 2010, mainly to purge this memory, I think. Perhaps someone here can relate. Hopefully it can be of help to someone in some way....... Eleven He was eleven years old when he killed himself. Eleven. When later asked why, he would say he was distraught over being rejected by a girl he liked. Sure, that sounded good to his eleven year old mind. And it wasn't entirely untrue. But his latest rejection was really just the tip of the iceberg, the latest in a lifetime of rejection and failure. At eleven years old. He had thought about suicide before this day, but today he had muttered his thoughts out loud. At school. Amongst a few classmates. Now what had perhaps been his destiny was a challenge. Doubters be damned, he'd show them all. With two classmates close behind he walked with purpose across the football field towards the treeline and fence bordering the northern end of the schoolyard. At the East end of the fence was an opening to the sidewalk and roadway beyond. Throughout the walk, his classmates made comments, though he's unsure of exactly what they were saying. Was it taunts, egging him on, or were they urging him to stop. He wasn't sure, and frankly didn't care. Today, at this, he would not be a failure. Stepping from the schoolyard to the sidewalk he surveyed the six lane road, East and Westbound lanes separated by a concrete median. Looking to the East they saw Westbound traffic was quite heavy this midday. Looking West, there was a slight hill,low enough that the boys could see the traffic light at the nearby intersection but just high enough to hide the traffic sitting at the red light. As the light turned green, he stepped defiantly onto the pavement and walked into the second lane. They could hear the engines, then watched as the first vehicles crested the hill. The boy smiled, seeing the vehicle in his lane was a five ton truck, the driver distracted by something to his left. As his classmates protests from the sidewalk grew louder and more urgent, the boy found himself captivated by the oncoming truck. He very much liked cars. He noticed the nameplate centred in the grille, shining in the bright sunlight. He liked this particular brand. If you could believe their ads, this company built very tough trucks. A tug at his left arm brought him back to the moment. He noticed one of his classmates had ran into the street and was trying to drag him to safety. Doubters no more, he mused. He easily had fourty pounds on his would be saviour and could fend off the attempt to save his life, but as down as he was he had no intention of causing harm to another. He took one last look at the truck before relenting and returning to the sidewalk. Seconds after the boys stepped off the roadway, three lanes of traffic rushed past at fourty miles per hour. The three boys stood on the sidewalk, two relieved, one angered at yet another failure. The walk back across the football field to the school was met with taunts of failure from a few, which were shouted down by the brave young man who had intervened. This walk seemed to take forever. He doesn't remember if he went straight to the principal's office or if he was summoned from class, but he knew he was sitting across the desk from the school's principal. A fate worse than death, he thought to himself. This thought brought a slight smile to his face, which disappeared just as quickly. He hated this principal. She was even worse than the last school principal. The last lady was mean, this lady was viscious. And he hated her. There must be a special place in hell for people who could hate a nun, he thought, but then there must also be a special place for nuns who acted the way this one did. She spoke in a voice as caustic as her personality. "So, let's discuss this little walk you took this afternoon." He didn't really want to talk. About that, or anything. But he knew he didn't have a choice. Throughout their long conversation, he had kept his responses to the bare minimum. A lot of grunts, shrugs, un-huns. The sister decided he needed extra curricular activities to distract him from his problems and when all was said and done somehow he had agreed to organize a school ping pong club. Ping pong? He hated ping pong. He knew nothing about ping pong. And he wasn't really fond of most of the other students, either. He liked cars. Trucks. How about a school car club. Sure, none of the students were old enough to drive, but they could talk cars, draw pictures, build modelcars, race slot cars. But no, ping pong. This was to result in yet another failure, but for today the issue had been swept under the rug and he was going home. Secure in the knowledge that he had failed at a task as simple as killing himself. Or had he?