blackberry kisses

This is a post I pulled from my friend Ricky's blog today.  WARNING: it is very heavy.  Please, seek help.  Think about the ones who care about you, I promise they exist.  There is always someone out there.

         Cameron died today. I'm very empty right now. It's hard for me to grab enough of my mind to put together in one coherent line of thoughts. It's hardly been a few weeks since Quinn was struck by the Caltrain and now...

          It was morning and I was late. I pulled my phone out of my pockets to check my email inside the car, and my mother was talking about how I'm always late to every one of my classes and I told her to stop, though she didn't. But when I read about the junior at Gunn High School who stepped in front of a train at 2am in the morning her nagging just drowned itself and I had a very bad and sudden feeling. A junior. The email didn't specify his name but I knew that I knew him. 

          Usually when I'm late to class I try to sneak in as quietly as possible but today I just burst in. That might have been rude, but at the time it really didn't matter to me the fact that every student glanced up. What really mattered was that the silence was so painfully loud, as Dr. K continued to write the hotline numbers on the whiteboard. The first thing I said when I sat down at my seat was, "Who was it." 

          And Giannina answered, "Cameron." 

          "Lee?"

          "Yes."

          That hit me in the gut. Wow. My mind just erased itself, but I didn't cry or anything. The fact didn't even hit me as I sat there with my forehead rested on the palm of one hand and my little finger shaking violently. My hands wandered among my nose, cheeks and desk to stop themselves from trembling. And I didn't want anyone to see that, but in spite of my efforts my breathing was heavy, and my trembles were both very visible and audible. Everyone saw it. 

          My counselor tells me that it hits people at different times. Some people explode in tears the moment they hear the news, and others feel an impulsive anger, while others don't feel anything at all. I couldn't tell where I was on that spectrum, but when Dr. K suggested the class to stand up and walk around a bit I couldn't take the eyes of my classmates throwing funny glances at me, and I stood up a little weakly and exited the room. I wanted to sit or something. Dr. K came after me and called Lisa over as well, who was walking a little ways ahead. She turned around, and I won't forget how heavy my heart felt the moment she did. Who was she? I couldn't recognize her. Lisa was contorted in tears, and I realized the sheer destruction she must've been facing. Was my face as dark and pitiful as hers? She was really crying now. I never saw anyone like this, not even when Austin's dog died of old age during his sophomore year and he cried as I kind of watched him, not knowing what to say. And I've always, at the back of my mind, felt a small regret that I never consoled him or said anything helpful or comforting. But I didn't know what to say to Lisa, and I just watched her cry as I did Austin. 

          "I want to go see my friends," she said. Dr. K asked me to take her to whichever class, and I started walking her over to AP Bio. I wondered whether I should pat her on the back of something, tell her it was okay. But it wasn't okay for either of us. So I just let her walk over to her group of friends sitting on the floor outside the classrooms and I leaned against a pillar, facing them. I couldn't tell you how devastated they looked. I turned away.

          I tried not to cry. Maybe I didn't know him well enough to burst into tears like Lisa did. I breathed very heavily. I kept my mouth shut. And I breathed these suppressed but violent sighs and moans of an increasingly overwhelming emotion. This is the first time a friend of mine left the world this way, and I really didn't know how to feel about it. I tried to calm down. But the breathing just got heavier, until I saw a couple of people I knew pass by me to go to the office or something and I hung my head low to avoid being seen like this. Somebody came over to me, an adult that I didn't know, and she tried to talk to me somehow but I answered only "yes," and "no," and "I'm fine, thank you," even if I wasn't and I surprised myself at how broken my voice was. And I asked if I could be alone for a while. She nodded and left, and I hung my head again. 

          Ow...Something happened. It felt like pins and needles in my lower stomach. A pang of tingling or pain or whatever it was spread itself over the bottom left stomach, and I clutched it out of wonder. It didn't hurt, and passed momentarily, but the pain in the hearts of those around me never did as they sat, and stood and walked around at a loss for words and thoughts, and I wondered if they all felt this ineffable sensation I just experienced. At one point Josh came to comfort me. It felt very weird to be the one to be comforted. I felt as if I should've been the one going around holding people's hands or patting their backs. I should have been the shoulder. But Josh just hugged me and I thanked him for that. 

          I forced myself back to class. I was still shaking. When I left the classroom I whispered a "sorry" to Dr. K and she looked at me with such a sorry face that I just wanted to go lie somewhere, maybe at the foot of a tree in a shade where I could sleep it all off.

          I don't believe in heaven, but at times like this I damn as hell wish there was one for Cameron. 

          You know what's funny? Today in AP Environmental Science we were supposed to collect population data at the local cemetery. What a childish prank. I found that I couldn't walk properly due to my trembling legs but I hope that it wasn't too noticeable. Mr. L canceled the cemetery trip and I ended up on a bench with Max and Noah, talking about our problems and Cameron. We didn't want to make assumptions about his death. I was still shaking. Perhaps it was because of the cold but I had two layers on, and the day was rather beautiful. The day...

          When I was walking back to class I passed a group of people, and I spotted Arjun with his chin on somebody's shoulder and his face as contorted and buckled as Lisa's. I tried to pat him on the shoulder as I passed him, when he swallowed his tears and kind of yelled, "I just don't understand why he did it," and he really, very genuinely cried.

          And I think that kind of broke me.

          A period I was silent. At brunch I was silent. When our B period english class decided to take a walk around the trail that surrounds the campus I was silent. Then I sprinted a couple hundred meters with Andrew and at the end of it I was sweating, and panting and panting but it didn't feel better at all. 'At least,' I remember thinking, 'the panting will hide my heavy breaths.' 

          In front of Andrew I think I wanted to look optimistic and strong and I told him I'd only be adding to the sorrow if I sulked. I smiled at him kind of, but I think he saw through it. It might have seemed as if I wasn't trying at all, but I was trying to be ok and I want you to understand that. I started shaking again in C period. After a while I just lay my head down and went to sleep.

          Jason asked if I knew Jonathan Davis. 

          "I've heard of him," I said and he replied: "He was in my stat class, in E period. And he just lost it when he heard the news." 

          "How so?"

          "He started crying and ran out the door." I closed my eyes. "I remember just a few days ago I was marking x's on his test," he said, "and now he's gone."

          He asked if I knew Cameron, to which I answered: "yes." I sounded wistful. "I'm very immature, thinking that I had problems." And I said the same to Sam. "I thought that I had problems, but really I was just being pretentious."

          "You should have seen Arjun's face. And Lisa's. And Kathleens. And the way Jonathan just ran out of the class crying," I said to Paul, "I've never seen anyone like that before."

          "No," he said, "The one that got me the hardest was Kellen. During brunch, he was...Holy. Never have I seen someone so broken."

          "What happened?"

          "I don't know. He was just...bawling. I've never seen him so vulnerable before, and you could see how much he cared. And that got me thinking, 'how would I feel if my close friend passed,' like how helpless and useless do you think we all feel right now? Cameron was right in front of our eyes."

          "He was always smiling," I said, "and I'm not even trying to talk well about him just because, but in all honesty he was always smiling. I just don't know how someone like that could even manage to hide a pain big enough that he'd die for it."

          Our vice principal Mr. Jacoubowsky woke me and told me to go talk to a counselor. I didn't want to talk to a counselor, but he urged it and I went. Both Ms. Compton and Mr. Johansen were very warm to me. Their kindness felt a bit weird. Would they be used to this stuff? I hope this doesn't become a repeat of what happened in 2009, when a bunch of kids from both Gunn and Paly jumped in front of the trains. I asked them what I could do to prevent more suicides from happening. I told them that all these support groups and websites and all just weren't working, and we needed something practical. I think I just blabbered at them. I don't remember most of what I said.

          I talked about how I might just call the Caltrain to discuss ideas for practical measures we can take to prevent suicides. Set up a fence or something. Employ two guards to take shifts standing by the tracks for every Caltrain station. I asked Ms. Compton why they didn't just set up fences and I expected her to talk about how people will just find ways to jump it or go around it. Instead she told me that to pass a new measure like that we'd need the unanimous agreement of Palo Alto's community, its council, and Caltrain. Then she said that Palo Alto didn't want the fences set up because the stations would then look aesthetically inferior to when there weren't any fences. Funny, huh? I started laughing, a little hysterically, and Ms. Compton gave me a very sad look. 

          Before he left, Mr. Johansen asked me if I was comfortable talking to my parents about issues like this. I wasn't. But I said that I was, and he left me to Ms. Compton. I thanked her and called my mother to pick me up. When I slumped into the car she started asking questions that I didn't want to be asked, so I asked her if she could stop. And this time she did. 

          I just want to say that help is always there when you need it. I know that a lot of people are uncomfortable with sharing their troubles and I understand that. I personally never sought help with counselors or parents. But as much as I kept my problems in within myself I also know that the more you do the more painful it gets, until at one point the loneliness is simply unbearable. We're stressed with schoolwork and due dates, relationships with parents and cracks in friendships and failed projects and a feeling that we're worthless. We make mistakes. We don't know what's wrong with ourselves or why other people treat us like they do and we never bother to tell the people we love that we love them because to lose them is something unimaginable. We worry that our future won't be as bright as we want it to be and we sulk over past mistakes and we beat ourselves down because we know our own flaws. And sometimes, even the best of friends see nothing. 

          Please talk to somebody. Talk to your friends. Talk to your counselors or teachers or parents. Talk to me. We may not say it every day but we're always here for you when you need us to listen.

          I'm a little better now. Cameron is probably better now too. I can't imagine what Cameron must have gone through and I only wish that I could. I can't ever do anything for him anymore, and I only wish that I could.

          I'm finally crying. I'm crying...

Kindly,