Attempt (Currently being edited)

Eileen Hicks

Eileen Hicks: 37 years old: English teacher: Hobbies include; drinking tea, running, writing, and volunteering at animal shelters

I must say, seeing the inside of my English teachers' bedroom is something I never expected to see. The walls were a crimson shade of a fresh rose, making the room seems more claustrophobic then it was. Above her desk was a chalkboard, the kind you paint on in a child's room, draped in illegible notes. They were probably her weekly plans for class. There were stacks of books, journals, and papers to be graded neatly placed on the desk around her computer. I was surprised to see her feverishly writing in a journal. I never really thought that adults would do that too, although I knew I would too.

She pushed back on her chair, separating herself from the desk, and sighed. The clock glowed, telling the early hours of the morning. She should probably be sleeping, seeing that there is most likely school in a few hours, unless it is a weekend. She grabbed for a manila envelope and slid on a sweatshirt. I wasn't sure where she was going until I saw the center of my town.

There were no lights in the cemetery so she had brought a camping lamp, suddenly that seemed less odd than it had when she was leaving her house. I wondered how she felt comfortable in a cemetery alone at night. Don't the childhood myths and goblins pop back into her mind and scare her? She parked her car in the path adjacent to my grave. Now that is something foreign rolling off of my tongue. I had a grave, it belonged to me, and I was painfully aware of it.

As she sat herself down she sighed again. "This is almost weirder than the first day of school with all the new students. Usually I try to decide who will be the troublemakers, and the slackers, so I can keep an eye on them and plan their seats accordingly," she spoke as if I was an old friend she hadn't seen in a while.

"Teachers always said you were going places, it was true, I believed you would too. A bright, intelligent girl, you would have a great future. No one ever said you were going bad places, or good places, just places. You did go places, and sometimes people forget that places aren't always on a map, they're in your head, and they aren't always good places. Maybe that is why no one saw this coming. I should have, I should have known from your writings, the shift in them. How was I so oblivious? How was anyone?" she fiddled with the envelope and smiled sadly.

"I sent your poems in, a competition, and you won. It was wrong of me to not get your permission, but it was the last day of entry and I couldn't not submit it. But you won, and you got a 5,000 dollar cash prize. You did it and you didn't even know. I will bring the money to your parents, I'm sure it will help them immensely."

"Adelaide, I should have known, as a teacher I feel I have failed you. Everyday I go to work and it is harder than the last. These students' sorry faces, they know I haven't slept. It's hard to face teaching, knowing I could have gotten one student help and saved their life had I not been so blind. I am so incredibly sorry Adelaide, I hope one day it gets easier. Nothing comes easy, it will be a long long ride, I can never let this happen again..."

Seeing a teacher cry is like watching a sex scene in a movie. It is painfully awkward and it makes you feel guilty. Mrs. Hicks was crying uncontrollably, her whole body shaking. Death isn't pretty, it never is.

Why do so many people romanticize it? Where did these ideas come from? Why do people think it is okay? Act like it's not a problem? This has to stop, depression is a serious illness. I had the sudden urge to take every picture off the internet regarding self harm, suicide and depression, such provocative thoughts are put into young peoples minds. They think they will get a boy to kiss their cuts, but that isn't how things are but they don't see that! Why isn't someone stopping people from that! They are hurting more than they help, and now I am one of those statistics that people will post online about how I died. How I was a cutter, and suicidal and some little girl will think my death was one to envy and kill herself too. I need to get out of here and do something!