Going On

Noelle

“Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” 
― Neil Gaiman, Coraline

I wondered why it had taken them so long to remove the staplers from the room. I didn't know what the idea amused me so much - maybe it was because it only took my attempted suicide for them to get a clue. Maybe it was because of all the comical ways I could think up to kill myself with that missing stapler.

Or maybe it was simply because I was trying so desperately to distract myself from the fact that the instructor just called me out in front of the entire class.

I really didn't want to puke on Theo's shoes again.

"Have you ever been suicidal, sir?"

At first, I just looked up, searching the room for the kid who had dared to speak out against the instructor. I didn't realize that the words had come from me until I noticed all the other kids around the room, staring at me.

Me.

The instructor seemed taken aback. "Pardon?"

Something deep inside of me seemed to take over in that moment, because I felt like I was simply on onlooker, not a participant in the conversation I initiated. "Sir, have you ever been in our shoes? Have you ever been suicidal?"

"Miss Grace, this is a suicide recovery class. Is that an appropriate thing to ask your teacher?"

"If you refuse to answer, how can you expect us to?" I asked, my voice coming out stronger than it ever had. "Do you know what you've done? You've broken us. By shoving us into a tiny room together and forcing us to listen to a lecture about suicide, you have broken the shattered bits of the lives we had left. You're healing us - you're making us worse. You look at us as if we are just a group of failures that have nothing to offer society. You can't just look at us and determine the kind of people we are based on the fact that we attempted suicide. You, of all people, should know that. We are not failures. We are not an exclusive group. And we are not some other damn species! We are human beings. We are so much more than the fact that we tried to take our own life. You do not know us because you know what we did in one weak moment. You know nothing.

"And you should not be lecturing us! If you think that anything you're saying is new, or is new to us, you are gravely mistaken. Telling us 'it will get better' will not help. Urging us to 'start our medications again' will not help. And accusing us of nothing but 'sunken faces' and 'healing scars' will never, ever help us find our way again. We are not broken - we have just lost our way. We've taken a detour into a dangerous place, but dammit, that doesn't mean we're any less human!

"There is nothing your lecture can do for us. You should not be lecturing us - you should be listening. That's what we need. Not a firm talk. Not a scolding. All we need to is for someone to sit down and listen to us, for once in our lives! We don't need you to respond, or give us suggestions. We just need someone to listen. Someone who will let us cry, because for fuck's sake, crying is not a crime!

"When we come in here twice a week, you should not be talking to us. You should be listening. We should come into this godforsaken building and we should just sit in a group of friends - in a group of people going through the same agonizing pain as their neighbor. We should sit, and we should talk. Because being lectured will not magically heal our wounds, but finding our reason in live will. We need to sit here and bond with each other, and find that passion for living that we left back in our childhood. We need to sit. We need to listen. And I swear to god, if you shuffle us all in here again, and tell us to be still and shut up, I swear I will be at the bottom of the river before you can blink."

Silence.

Nobody dares to utter a word.

And I don't fucking blame them, because for the first time in my life, I feel strong. Really strong. Like I could take on this entire room full of people with my bare hands.

I felt fearless - a feeling I had thought was lost long ago.

The instructor stared at me sharply.

Then, he sighed deeply.

"Well, who would like to go first?"

"What?" one of the kids asked, shocked.

"Well, you heard the girl, didn't you?" he asked, looking directly at me. "You heard Miss Noelle Grace, and I presume that you agree with her. Who would like to share something with the group first?"

"I'll go," a boy said.

It took a moment for me to realize that it was Theo.

He smiled at me.

"I won't start at the beginning, because as far as I'm concerned, none of that really matters anymore. All that matters is now. So, I'm going to start last week, when I met a girl that threw up on my shoes."