Personal Narrative: Just One Of Other Things

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When someone you love takes their own life, everyone around you will tell you not to blame yourself. They 'll say that no one could 've known how bad things had gotten, and there was nothing anyone could 've done differently. That it 's near impossible to see the signs when they 're right in front of you. That it 's, "just one of those things"

When you tell someone you love that you want to take your own life they can react in a few different ways. Family will cry for you, and offer to find you someone to help. Friends will cry with you, and stay up all night talking it through. But when you finally find the courage to admit it to yourself, nothing is said at all. Things will change, but nothing will get better.

The more you think about
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We had moved to a new town, I switched schools, and I didn 't have any friends. My graded dropped, and I just wanted it to end. I was terrified by my own thoughts, and I wanted so desperately for someone to help me. Now, I am scared for different reasons, I still have these thoughts, but I have gotten used to them. They are just always there, sitting quietly waiting for days where I find myself alone thinking about how easy it would be.

Every one of us has been effected by it, some more than others. You may know someone who 's friend killed themselves, or maybe you know someone who has tried. I knew someone who killed herself. Her name was Traci, with an "I", she was a middle school teacher. She had a son who is a musician, and a fiancé who loved her. She loved lawn sales, and collected sea glass, she was always smiling, and happy.

She once told me that we were old souls that were destined to meet. And liked to tease my dad that he was lucky she met him before she met his kids, because she loved us, just as much as she loved him. We spent every weekend with her, scavenging antique markets, and dancing on the
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I was sitting at the counter playing with a roll of tape when I found out. Anna had come over to me with her phone in her hand, and she was crying... She handed me the phone, it was my dad, and he was crying. He told me that Traci was gone. That she had killed herself two days before. I didn 't want to believe it. I knew that she had depression, but I thought that her medication was enough.

I still talk to her sometimes, I tell her about my grades, and how my dad is doing. I ask her why she did it. I tell her that I sometimes think about doing the same thing.

They say that the first step to getting well is admitting that you have a problem, but no one ever tells you what the second step is. When the weight of the world is heavy on your shoulders, and you can 't see any other way out, the worst thing you could possibly be is alone. If you do not speak up, no one will hear you. If you plaster on a smile when they ask how you 're doing, they will believe that you are okay. If you convince yourself not to tell anyone because it would upset them, think of how upset they would be if you were

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