Here I am in the cemetery again. You're probably wondering "What is she doing in a cemetery?" I'm visiting my big brother's grave again. Everyone always asks "How did he die?", and my family and I always have to reply with the cold hard truth. He killed himself. That's normally where people's pity fades away. They don't say what they would if he had died in a car accident, "Oh, he died so young." He chose to take his life. They usually just reply with silence. My brother wasn't the kind of person people would assume to kill himself. He was a very talkative happy guy with lots of friends. Sure he was "emo", but what is normal nowadays? It's been a week since he passed, and I think I'm the one his death impacted the most seeing as I'm the one who found him. His wrists turned inside out in our bathtub, his face completely white and drained of life. His suicide note was simple,
I'm sorry to whoever found me this way, miserable and mangled. Believe me I'm okay now. Mom and dad, I love you guys so much and thank you for making me the person I am. Please don't blame yourselves for my death. Emmie, (that's me) I'm so sorry I left you like this. I know being your big brother I'm supposed to be there for you and protect you and love you, but you're strong and I know that you'll be okay. Nicholas, please look after Emmie for me, thank you for being such a good friend.
Love, Jeremy.
Nicholas was Jeremy's best friend. I would always see them hanging out and laughing at lunch. They would always sneak out of school to smoke cigarettes and they would get detention together. People always assume that I'm depressed that Jeremy's gone. I do miss him, but no one knew him like I did. He always got what he wanted when he wanted it, and if death was what he wanted then there was no doubt he was going to get it. I've never been a super religious person but I do believe Jeremy's in a better place. The week after Jeremy's death when I had to go back to school was probably the worst, not because I was sad, but because people assumed that I was suicidal too. The counselor called me to her office and had me roll up my sleeves and proceeded to keep me in her office for an hour to talk about good psychiatrists. I don't need a psychiatrist, I just need people to remember Jeremy the same way I did.
"Emelia?"
The guidance counselor snaps me out of my daydream.
"Mhm?"
I ask, bothered when everyone calls me by my full name.
"You should discuss with your parents about seeing a psychiatrist."
She pushes. I stand up and grab my backpack up off the floor and slide it onto my shoulder.
"I will Ms. Smith."
I say. She flashes her straight white teeth at me and tells me to have a good day as I leave her office. As I'm walking down the halls I suddenly become very aware of my appearance. I'm wearing grey sweatpants that stop mid shin with a white V neck t-shirt, and green converse. I have long wavy dark brown hair and I have hazel eyes with freckles littering my face. I have a heart shaped face and round nose with pale skin, and small lips that resemble porcelain doll's lips. I duck into the bathroom to attempt to tame my wavy hair. As I look in the mirror I dig for my brush in my backpack when some of the more popular girls come in caked with makeup. Guys seem to like them and the girls honestly don't seem to mind me even though I am the polar opposite of them so I just continue what I'm doing. A girl with pin straight long blonde hair with some tacky matte lipstick comes over to me and hugs me. I think her name's Shayla.
"I heard about your brother."
She says with a frown as she releases me from her hug that felt more like a bear trap. I don't reply with anything but a nod.
