flowers

There is a scene in Yesterday My Classmate Died where everyone is learning about the death, and its abrupt interruption of daily routine was this jarring mixture of humour and horror that is now rearing its terrible head in Real Life. And I am trying to make sense of sadness and the silences right now, because if I — someone who never really interacted much with her — am struck by the tragedy of the situation, what more the people who loved her? Loved her so much she's still alive and having a cheeseburger with them tonight, loved her so much it's hard to say she really died. 

It's something I never talk about now, but I know precisely how it feels like to lose a loved one to suicide. I never looked into the casket because I wanted my memories untainted. I refused to be left with an image of a bruised head for a goodbye. But what still haunts me is this: I still wonder how it feels like when the equilibrium on the ledge disappears and you're plunged into the horrible emptiness of the night air, hitting the floor like an angry bullet.