When we were young, sitting in health class, we were told that two out of the 30 of us will pass away before we are 20. No one thought it was going to be them. We all thought of ourselves as immortal, untouchable. Disturbing isn't it? Disturbing how the statistics turned out to be true. Disturbing how when we were little the only people that seemed to pass away were so much older than us, but now, today, it's our friend's little sister; it's our older brother's best friend; it's our generation. It's us, the "immortal ones," the "untouchable ones." When we were young, 30 kids occupied those seats.

You see the stories in the news, at your school and even in your neighborhood. The silent killer makes it rounds, and, without a notice, a warning or a cry for help, another loved one from our generation has fallen victim to the silent killer. Suicide.

The kid down the street who was always happy, always had a smile on their face, is gone. The girl who loved God, who had so many friends, who nobody thought ever felt alone, is gone. The skater boy who was always the person everyone went to for help, the skater boy with all the friends and potential to be great is gone. Our generation is falling victim to suicide.

People think hiding it, tucking it away and ignoring it will make it go away. Well, it doesn't ever go away. The families don't stop grieving, the friends don't ever stop wondering what they could've done to help and the questions, hell, the questions never end. So no, tucking it away doesn't help. That's why it's time to bring suicide to the surface. It's time to bring suicide to the front lines, and ask ourselves, ask our generation why our friends, our brothers, our sisters think suicide is the way to take all the pain away.

Our generation is consumed with trying to be "normal." We hide away the depression, the anxiety, the hurt, because god forbid we aren't "normal." Who invented normality? Who says being sad or hurting isn't normal? Who has the ability to make our generation think there is no way out other than taking their own lives? The answer is inevitable — it's me; it's you; it's all of us.

The girl who doesn't eat lunch or dinner anymore, who idolized Khloe Kardashian was called fat yesterday at school, and promised herself no one would ever do that again. It's you; it's me; it's all of us.

The boy who thinks Pokemon is cool, who eats lunch alone, was told to just kill himself because no one will miss him yesterday at the park, and he listened. It's you; it's me; it's all of us.

The girl who never feels good enough because every man she has ever loved has left her, who cries herself to sleep, decided yesterday she can't do it anymore. It's you, It's me, It's all of us.

The boy who smiles everyday, who is the class clown, goes home to an empty house, an empty life, decided tomorrow will be the last day he breathes. It's you; it's me; it's all of us.

Our generations needs to stop thinking it is OK to judge, needs to stop thinking words don't hurt and needs to stop thinking everyone is immortal, everyone is untouchable. The truth is you only see what people want you to. You don't see their heart; you are not in their head; you don't know what they go through every second or every day, so stop thinking you are better than them, stop going against each other and, for God's sake, please stop glorifying suicide as being brave and the best option because...

There is no such thing as being normal.

Who makes all the rules for society on what is normal and what is not? You want to eat that cookie, eat it. You want to watch anime, watch it. You want to write, draw or be loud, do it. There's not a master book saying, "This is cool, and that's not." High school, college, they end. Life goes on, and the people trying to tear you down now, they will fade to your past.

You are never alone.

Even in your darkest places and in your darkest times, you are never alone. You are never the odd one out because you're sad or depressed or your anxiety is become a heavy, heavy weight upon your shoulders. The strongest people come from the hardest past, and you will get through this, you will. I know it doesn't seem as though you will, but one day you will look back on this and think, "I'm so happy I didn't go."

The stories you hear now about our generation falling victim to suicide is bone chilling. It's the girl that you used to pass in the hallway after fourth period on your way to gym. It's the guy at lunch who would always sit by himself. Or maybe even sometimes, it's our best friend; it's our family member, and in the worst case, it's us. Suicide is preventable, and instead of encouraging and daring people in our own generation to commit, why doesn't our generation stand up, speak out and do something about this?

When we were younger, 30 people occupied 30 seats. Before the judgment of high school, before the loneliness of college, before the stress of the real world, there were 30 bodies. Do me a favor and look around. How many people are in the seats now? How many faces have slipped into the silent killer's hands. Was the statistic right? Are you even sitting in that room anymore? When we were young, 30 kids occupied those seats, and now, we have lost so many that the classroom feels like a graveyard.

National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

You, yes you, are never alone.