Happy New Year!
I guess I forgot to post about the new year, but let’s face it, I can’t do that every single year with the same old drama, can I? I mean, literally, the same hope for the new year: Please move on and heal my broken heart, yada yada.
I am so over that.
My second book for the year is Nina LaCour’s “Hold Still.”
It’s another book about suicide, and unlike Jay Asher’s “Thirteen Reasons Why” this one says what every person with mental health problems really want all of us to know: There really is no reason.
And I guess knowing that makes it harder to move on when someone who chose to end his life is just gone — because there are no explanations and no logical reasons that we can wrap our minds around. And even if we think there are, even if they’re big enough, or small, or if they count for anything at all, we refuse to believe that we could ever be so hopeless as to leave everything behind, so we cannot understand why anyone else would.
I know because at some point, I thought about it too, but I always find a reason to stay, even if it’s just a plan to see a friend in a few days, or watch a film I’ve been waiting to see, or something as mundane as that.
What I’m trying to say is, the people who cared about you will always remember you. The people who knew you will probably feel sorry for you. But the rest of the world — no matter how much the people close to you cared, the rest of the world will eventually move on.
And you’re six feet under.
And it’s not even your fault you’ve been sick.
Or you’ve been tired.
Or that the universe conspired against you.
And it’s one of the saddest things to take your life for.