I should be writing an essay. A DBQ essay, to be exact. But this somehow seemed a little more important. I hate using this as an excuse to get out of work, but somehow I can't help it. I really can't.

I almost fell asleep in Algebra II today. That might seem insignificant to most, but I have Mrs. Mayberry. You don't fall asleep in Mrs. Mayberry's class. It just... doesn't happen. Chemistry and Latin were understandable. Maybe even Geometry too. But Algebra?

I'm waiting for some teacher to come up to me and tell me to pay attention. Because I want to stand up and say to their face, "You didn't go to school with him for eight years of your life. He didn't live two streets away from you. You never saw him riding a bike down the street a few times while you were walking your dog. And you don't know her. You don't know that she was his partner in Art and depressed already. You don't know what it's like for that many things to happen all at once. You don't know, and you never will. So pardon me if I phase out for a little bit. Pardon me if Geometry and Latin and Chemistry and Algebra just seem so insignificant right now. Pardon me if I don't see what good any of this does if it can't stop so many people dying all at once. Excuse me for not seeing the point."

I don't know how his close friends do it. I couldn't study last night, and I had two tests today. I asked the second teacher if I could have a slight extension and wait on the test. He made me take it anyway, saying that he needed to ask Mrs. Phillips about how things "normally go in these type of situations". Oh, yes, Mr. Carroll. You go do that. Because things like this, situations like this, are most definitely normal. I mean, people your students know commit suicide every day, right? And then another person they know loses their dad the next day? Yeah, sure, Mr. Carroll, things like this happen often enough for them to be considered normal.

Sorry for the sarcasm. But it's what I resort to. In Mr. Carroll's words, it help keeps things "normal".

Fuck that. Fuck normal. Fuck Tuesday, Wednesday, today, and tomorrow. Fuck these situations. Fuck suicide and death. Fuck dying young. Fuck DBQ essays and tests and teachers that only think they understand. Fuck understanding. Fuck school. Fuck life.

No. Don't fuck life. Keep on living. That's what they always tell you, right? You need to keep on living. Remember him, but move on. He's trying to send a message, maybe. Trying to tell you what would happen if you did the same thing.

So I'll keep going. I'll be over this soon. Soon he will be nothing but a memory, a boy who used to go to school with us and committed suicide our sophomore year. Soon he will just be another tally mark in the statistics. To most, he will be just another teenager. Just another teenager that had too many problems and couldn't handle it anymore.

But not to me. I might not have known him well. Hell, I might not have really known him at all. But he's made a lasting affect on me. And I know he will be the reason that I never do anything like that. No, I'm not bashing him. I'm not making fun of him. I'm not saying what he did was wrong or that he could really control it.

Does anyone know what that note said? For those of you who do, maybe that last bit had something to do with this. This affect he's had on people. To keep others from making the same mistake. To protect others from dying too soon. Maybe he didn't know what he was doing. But maybe he did.

And for that, I thank him.

Thank you, Kevin Zoccola, for showing me something that I never would have believed without actually feeling it.