Suicide. The word itself has a hollow ring to it. It’s taboo. We are not supposed to use it. However, society finds it funny. Teenagers and adults alike throw around the concept, like some sort of joke whenever someone does something stupid. How did we get from not being allowed to use the word suicide, to throwing around the words kill yourself? Why is this the knee-jerk response to stupidity? A concept that implies how much better the world would be if said person did not exist in it. So what happens when someone actually listens? When it is no longer a joke, but becomes the reality, what then? There is no handbook. There is no way to prepare for the phone call, for the days and the weeks to follow.

The cause of death is almost never talked about. There is a feeling of awkwardness and unease in the air whenever it needs to be discussed. People will come at you with their sympathies when you tell them a friend has died, but they clam up as soon as you tell them how. There is a stigma associated with it. For some unknown reason, when you are questioned, it is unclear what to say or how to say it. Internally, all you can do is scream. Instead, your voice lowers to a whisper and you stare down at the floor. You stumble over the words that you've rehearsed over and over again in your mind.

Your heart fills with anger as well as despair. Your friend abandoned you. She is gone. How dare she leave you like that? Why couldn’t she just talk to you? Surely there is something that you could have done to help. But in all honesty, you’re angrier with yourself for not noticing how bad things really were. You don’t understand, and you know that you never will. She made the choice to leave you behind, and you will never be able to ask her why.

Your friend will forever be defined by the cause of death listed on the death certificate. Suicide. No one will never think of her interests, her smile, or her dreams. All that is left are the whispers that follow her name. “Isn’t that the girl that killed herself?” Your insides burn because there is nothing you can say. If you try the responses are limited. People look at you like some kind of basket case. “Oh, your friend killed herself, you poor thing.” No. Stop. She had a name, she had a face, she had a life, and she is not her circumstances.

This is not a joke. Suicide is not funny. These are real people with real stories. Their lives are not your punchline.

In loving memory of Katlynne Crawford