Guilty Suicide

The words shone on the computer screen. A message to my blog, from an anonymous girl. Her name I did not know. I only knew her suffering. “Tonight I’m going to kill myself. I can’t take it anymore. I just wanted to send you this message to tell others struggling that they should stay strong, even though I couldn’t.”

Scars open, tear into fresh wounds. What caused the young girl to want to take her own life? Homophobia. An evil that resides in the core of the most rotten human beings. I write back in a frantic hurry, begging and pleading. Please, don’t do this. It gets better.

Does it get better? I can’t say for sure, but I can lie.

“My family hates me, I deserve this.” A second message.

Alone in my room, I sat up in my bed. The night turned into a bright morning but I couldn’t move from the bed that felt like a coffin. What words could I have weaved to change her mind? I must have said the wrong thing. I never heard from her again. Guilt swelled in my ribcage. Could I have saved a life? Did I fail to?

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