“I am not my lacerations”

I was sitting in the bike racks at Holmes Junior High waiting for some friends when my phone rang; the caller ID stated Kira (home), I was confused; incredibly confused my friend had only ever called me from her cell phone. My friend lived in Boston; she had to move there to live with her aunt after her parents passed away, her living so far away was hard on us but we kept in contact as much as we could. When I answered, my friend was not on the other line. It was her aunt; as soon as I heard Helen’s voice I had a feeling something was wrong. She wasn’t overly gentle delivering the news to me, she just automatically said, “Kira is gone.” I remember dropping my cell phone and falling back against the fence. I had not had anytime to call my friend in the past few days. I felt so horrible; my gut was wrenching and I rested my head on my knees as I cried. After a few minutes I stood up and made my way to the MPR, finding a couple of my friends. It was hard for me to stop crying to tell them the reason for it. I knew that my friend’s decision to take her life was my fault; I should have realized from the last time I talked to her that she was upset, that she needed a friend.

Rather than going to grief counseling or therapy of any type, I began to cut; every time I thought about that day or my friend I would grab a razor blade or a pair of scissors because I felt so horrible. I stayed home from school for a few days then refused to leave my room for a couple of weeks. When I went back to school I noticed that people had started to stare at me, I was usually happy and outgoing within my group of friends but after this I was quiet, did not talk at all in classes wouldn’t crack a smile if the teacher told a joke.

I was wearing long sleeves during the end of may, I would wear sweats and a hoodie to PE; anything to cover what I had done. I would spend half of my classes thinking what I could have done to prevent this. If I should follow her path since it seemed nobody would miss me anyway. I’ve spent the past few years struggling with these thoughts. I get defensive if people joke about suicide, I have to leave the classroom if the people from the suicide prevention line are presenting to us. I cry if I start to reminisce about when Kira and I would hang out; the crazy things we would do. I have days where all I think about is my best friend how society lead her to take her own life when she was only 14.

I still blame myself. Its something I can’t help, we were like peas in a pod, i should have known she was not okay, I should have taken any free time I had to call her. I should have been there for her.