December 26th

Stones,

As usual, the holidays suck. Christmas dinner was typical. It started all nice and formal but, as the night went on (and the drinking went on), it evolved into family reminiscing, which inevitably led to family fighting and fa la la la la … I hid in the corner by the tree, reading a new book I got in my stocking and trying to ignore the world. You were right about the “F” word.

As I was reading, out of the corner of my eye, I could see a group of my younger cousins whispering and daring one another to do something. Finally Emma, the oldest, came over…

 

Emma: Is it true that your best friend jumped off a bridge?

Me: Where did you hear that?

Emma: Some kids at school.

Me: It’s not true. Now go away.

Emma: How’d she do it, then?

Me: None of your business.

Emma: Do you even know?

Me: (not answering, trying to read and ignore her)

Emma: I bet you don’t know.

Me: Get outta here.

Emma: (turning to her siblings) Told ya she doesn’t know.

 

At that point, my Aunt Carolyn came over and told them to leave me alone. She apologized and said that she had told them all to be nice and not bother me this Christmas. Which is a change, because usually I’m the one left to babysit everyone else.

Even from my little reading corner, I could hear all the adults whispering about me—my mom trying to reassure everyone that I’m fine and coping well. She left out the part where she discovered my search history on the computer and totally freaked out the day before.

I’m usually really good about erasing it, but I guess the one time I forgot is the one time she finds it. Typical. Now she’s all worried about me again. I have another appointment with the OC in two days. She wasn’t supposed to have any appointments over the holidays but she’s made a special exception for me. Sarcastic “Yay!”

It wasn’t like I was researching how to commit suicide or anything … although she’s acting like I was. It started with me looking up bipolar disorder, and that led to a link about teenage depression, and that led to another link about teen suicide (one of the five leading causes of death among teens, the first being accidents), and then I was on a page about famous suicides through history: Kurt Cobain (knew about that one), Sylvia Plath (knew about that one, too), Vincent van Gogh, Ernest Hemingway and his granddaughter Margaux Hemingway (lots of depression demons in that family), Virginia Woolf … and so many more … all writers and artists, kind of like you.

The pages all linked to other places, some that showed their work, fan sites, and some that listed how they committed suicide … and I think that was the page that my mom found, so, of course, she had a mini heart attack and booked an appointment for me with the OC right away.

I told her it wasn’t what she was thinking. How could she think that? I was just … I don’t know … curious. It didn’t start out with me looking for that information—it kind of just happened.

I can’t believe all the ways people have done it. I am kind of wondering why you chose to do “it” the way you did. If you researched “it?” Of course you did, because you’re you and you never did things halfway. That’s one thing people always said about you … “If Kacey wants to do something, there’s no stopping her. She’ll do it.” You wanted to learn how to play guitar and then, that same year, you won the school’s talent show, singing and playing your own song. You wanted to be in the play and you inevitably got the lead. Anything you wanted … you got it. Congratulations to you.

Sticks