UNTITLED As I sit in my dorm room like millions of other University children, I contemplate suicide. I wonder how many of those millions feel the same way as I? None. Not one other person ever has had the same experiences as I. I don’t consider myself a predecessor because a good friend of mine has done this before I don’t but I can imagine he did. He did not know the pain he would cause those around him, but I do. Thinking back on his death, I feel such mixed emotions. Hatred for the pain he caused me but sorrow for his family as their pain must be so much greater than mine. I feel sadness, he lived alongside me for so long and I never once felt the colorless sorrow that is inside me, inside of him. But no one has sensed it inside me so how could I have felt it in him? Often times, as I walked through the black haze of life a passer by would look up and make eye contact. I would wonder if they could sense what so many others were blind to? Maybe their disposition toward me is a weakness. I feel sadness toward my friend. I don’t know specifically how he did it but hints have lead me to believe he hung himself. After that I have pictured him pacing back and forth in his basement, and then turning to the belt hanging from the rafters. I know life has so much more to offer but it doesn’t change my thoughts, I feel alone. An empty house that once knew playful children and lovers, rotting from the inside, it is sad. Like me. One other time I tried to kill myself. I drove three hours away from home into the cold darkness of the mountains and sat there, an hour went by and I drove back. In hindsight, I knew I wanted to die then. The presence of overhanging justice awaits, it will fall on all of us eventually, some will be crippled worse than others, but most survive, I will not. It is the crush of society that causes suicide. Judgment, lies, pressure, and too little love are what kills me, not myself. People will tell themselves that I wasn’t mentally healthy like I have heard others talk about my friend, but that is not true. It is the subtle ignorance to distinct interactions that caused the numbing in my thoughts, the ones closest not feeling my pain. Those who cover their feelings with fake happiness cause anger. I am not being hypocritical because although I do this too, I uncover myself time to time and this is when I sense the truth of my existence: to make those around me happy, but is it at my expense? Am I being cut short on the amount of happiness? Is there too little to go around because many seem to have excess amounts of it. I feel like happiness is a liquid substance and we all must fill our bright yellow happiness buckets with “joy and butterflies” from other people. But sometimes, even if it is just once, we need to take a break from this game we are playing and look at the world. But people don’t, it is their ignorance that makes them seem so happy. I have been to see a psychiatrist before and it helped but nothing lasts forever. I felt really good until my friend did it, then my thoughts of suicide came back, slowly. That summer had some thoughts but very few. Then I went away to University and my detachment was complete. I still talk to my parents but never much deeper than the weather comes up. My friends here help a little as well. A small handful know about my friend and none about my thoughts. I have never been the type to reach out for help though. Maybe thats my downfall. Tonight will be a battle I must face, and although my decline is slow to come, it is imminent. Wrote this last night... feel a little better today.