A Quick Update

If there’s anyone out there who actually cares, I’m sorry I haven’t posted in so long. I’ve been alternately busy and worn out most of last week, and what little time I spent writing here went toward a diary-entry-style post which is really, really long and which will take me a while yet. Perhaps I’ll split it into parts, because it is seriously enormous.

As for what’s been going on, well, I had a lovely week of vacation just now, interspersed with an annoying amount of homework. A few of my friends and I are planning on performing at my school’s Bandfest, at which any student or students may perform any song they please (I do think you have to run it by the teachers once, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I were wrong – this is Denmark, where people are much more laid back about Appropriateness and Correctness). We intend to play Resistance, by Muse. It is the Friday after next, though, so I’m not sure if we’ll be ready. I think so, though. What else? My Danish teacher has decided that my class will be writing an online newspaper now. Huzzah. I get to be a journalist. I have always hated writing newspaper articles, but I have a nagging suspicion they’re good for me, so I’ve decided to bear it all with a heavy air of martyrdom and try to get as much out of it as I can.

One other thing. I found out from facebook today that a girl from my old school committed suicide. A lot of my friends have put up memorial posts, saying what they remember her for and why they miss her. It’s beautiful and sad, and of course I wish it hadn’t happened. I don’t think I ever knew the girl, but I must have gone to school with her at one point, and if I’d stayed in the US I’d probably have met her and perhaps even grown close, considering that she got on so well with the people I got on well with.

The part I feel worse about, though, isn’t even the awkward feeling that I ought to know her. It’s the fact that I despise suicide. I find it cowardly and cruel. This is due to personal experience and is no reflection on this girl, but I can’t keep a bit of my disgust from spilling over onto her, and I think that’s wrong when I didn’t know her and I don’t miss her. You see, the reason I call suicide cruel is that no matter what you may think when you do it, you are hurting more people than you can possibly imagine. You are hurting your family and your friends, but you’re also hurting your classmates, your teachers, your neighbours, distant cousins you haven’t seen in years, people in your band/sports team/after-school club, people who met you a few times and thought you seemed a bit sad but never asked how you felt because they didn’t think it would be polite. All of these people will hate themselves now. They will cry and scream into pillows and feel guilty. They’ll be sure that if only they’d been friendlier, kinder, quicker to notice, you wouldn’t have done it. If they’d known how depressed you were, they’d have done something to help. All you had to do was ask! They’d have helped, of course they’d have helped. But now they spend weeks, months, and sometimes even years wondering why you hated them and yourself so much. And yes, they will feel you hated them, even when they tell themselves it’s not true. What else can they think, when you deliberately caused them such pain?

None of this is the case with me and this girl who died. I didn’t know her, and if I did I don’t remember (and believe me, that – not knowing for sure – is more than uncomfortable enough). It’s sad, of course, and I do feel sad, but in a distant, abstract sort of way. I feel no guilt and no personal attachment, so it’s not fair for me to hate her, even if it’s not really on purpose. Part of me – the angry part – is snarling “Why shouldn’t I hate her? She wasn’t thinking of anyone but herself. She’s just cruel and stupid.” My friends have all written wonderful status updates, all of which make her sound like she was a really wonderful person, and that helps, but I still despise her just a little. I keep re-reading these status updates, hoping they’ll convince me to be more forgiving, but I don’t think it’s working.

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