Two Seats To The Left

Humans are weird. We react to tragedy similar to how still water reacts to a drop hitting it’s surface. The further we are from it, the less it impacts us. Something terrible, depressing, and heartbreaking becomes a small bump in our day.

“Did you hear about the student who shot himself in the classroom?”

“I did! How terrible! Could you imagine!”

“Ohh such a tragedy! So paper or plastic?”

We seem to take headlines over the words of the story. Many give their opinions on the stance rather than imagining themselves in the other’s shoes. All the isolation, pain, and breaking of hope that he must have endured. The sleepless nights. The tears. Everything. But we don’t think of that as often. The thought that our ostracization or behind-the-back criticism could have been one of many stepping stones to that path. A small feeling of responsibility for that we alone cannot save these people, but know that we found it easier to ignore than reach out. But the further we are from the impact zone, the easier it is to move on. Obvious, yet melancholy. If we were to feel deep emotional tears over every tragedy that we heard of, we would never be able to function as people. However, the moments where we feel almost nothing in the face of direct tragedy is a scary revelation. The fear of that we've become too numb or adapted into an asshole persona. Overall, we cannot blame ourselves for how we feel or don’t by nature. What we should work on though is our empathy. It’s easy to think this guy made a wrong decision. It’s easy to throw on labels like “depressed” or “suicidal” but they are simply headlines to a much deeper story. To describe this man, I will be from a honest perspective. Socially, he could be awkward. You knew his heart was in the right place, though you saw years of growing up in the outcast life had affected him. He wasn't incredibly handsome, but he wasn't bad looking. Tall and slightly slender. Distinct. There was a feeling of wanting that he emitted. This search to find a place where he belonged.

I am not going to say whether I condone his actions or not, but I will say one thing to pick the mind. Many say that he should not have done it. They wish he had said something or reached out. To many, him shooting himself was the main tragedy. Perhaps those bad jokes he told you that made you laugh uncomfortably were him reaching out. The moments where he would randomly join a group conversation just to feel included were him saying he was lonely. Maybe he knew no one ever answered his silent cries. Maybe he wanted people to realize he existed, even if it was only in word and memory. A wise man once said, “If life’s a game of poker, then we view suicide as folding; but it’s not. Suicide would be throwing your cards, flipping the table, and pissing on your friend’s chips before stomping off.” Life always has hope. Life will always have a place where you belong. Sadly though, it can seem like an impossible fantasy for those who have been waiting too long. And sometimes, you can’t see the dawn breaking when your eyes are shut in darkness. A tragedy I wish would not bounce off me so easily. This small writing dedicated to the guy who sat two seats to my left in band. 

R.I.P. Zach

-Axe