My approach wasn’t making anything better, the stupid therapist keeps trying to put me and my mom together, if we are together I’m going to end up crying, but I have to see emotionless, but I don’t know why I just cannot lose. I fight and fight till my mother takes me to a different therapist, so far I am winning. We were moving in a few weeks and I knew after that I wouldn’t be seeing a therapist for a long time. I was going to make it, finally was seeing the light! I had had to do was avoid direct eye contact, I liked to stare at the fist, they were… fascinating... So I occupied myself with that. The final weeks dragged on, but eventually it was over. Finally! It was over, but the one think I was confused about was that no one ever brought up death. It’s even hard to speak of now, but I still remember that day in home room…
The counselors came in, and said something about a terrible thing…suicide, that caught my attention, I suddenly thought of my friend, he has aha a hard life, but then a name I didn’t expect came out of the woman’s mouth Nimali. It still hurts. Her out of all the people. The cheery girl in most of my classes, the girl who was by far smarter than most of the people in our grade. Some people burst into tears. Some people’s mouths dropped. I covered my moth with my hand, but showed no other emotion, accept maybe shock. How could I have no emotion to such a tragic event? She was my friend, I cared about her. She killed herself who could be so stupid? Not her, she was brilliant, she was a loss to the world. But how could I show no emotion? Was there really something wrong or was this a dream? People two grades up from us were sobbing. They didn’t even know her. I never cried or her, not a single tear. Never had a nightmare, it was not only surprising, but scary. Why did I have to be so emotionless? Why can’t I cry? When something that bad happens, why can’t I be upset? One thing I did know is I would never do that to myself. I saw how everyone reacted, I could never cause that much sadness. Maybe I should have brought that up with the physiologist. Maybe this why I’m so messed up, how could I know? How could anyone know? How could someone let this happen? You only see suicide in movies at least for a 6th grader you do. You never actually see it, or feel the aftermath. Sometimes I wish I could have helped her, or her family. The only thing I did was write a card, which was never delivered. Just shoved in the back of my locker to be found at the end of the year, torn beyond recognition, then it was thrown out. It’s just unreal, it was a dream, someone pinch me… If only it was a dream…
Things like this make me question life itself. Almost anything makes me question life, things from death to the ‘abc’ button on my calculator. If Nimali had the will to kill herself, is that the same will that fuels men to fight and kill? Is that the same feeling that triggers human’s nature to hurt others? Then I think that no one can answer these questions. It’s scarier than I ever though life could be why do we have hopes and dreams if we know we are going to die? Why do I dread of becoming successful when I know these facts? And most importantly why do we fear death? The question is always why, and we will never know the answer. The death of a friend I will never get over, the hatred of my mother I will never recover from, I will always blame her for many of my permanent mental scars, and I will always see the ignorance of my brother. I may never get over some things in life. I may never get the answers to my problems, and I may never know how to end this, so I just will.