When I first heard that she'd died but didn't know the cause, my reaction was to think how terrible it was for someone to die so young, and to wonder what awful illness or accident befell her. I wasn't expecting at all to hear that she'd killed herself.
Since I've often thought in the past about doing just that, I was trying to parse my new reaction when I found out how she died. I think before, I'd have described her death as a tragedy; now different words come to mind - wasteful, why?, ridiculous, incomprehensible. Ironically, I find myself wondering what could have made such a beautiful, talented, intelligent young woman want to end her life, and think there were so other options. I feel so sad thinking about those final moments when she carried out her choice, and how lonely she must have been.
Interestingly, in the end I didn't give up trying suicide because I realized it would be a ridiculous waste; I stopped trying because I was too chicken and pain-averse to go through with it, and too depressed (and frightened) at the thought that I was so alone that no one would even know until it was way too late to find me and get me to a hospital. Ultimately, I guess that means I didn't really want to die, since I kept recoiling from the thought of actually ending up dead. What in me kept clinging to life? And what made my classmate let go of it?
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