A College Essay
Suicide is the second leading cause of death of youth ages 15-24 and the tenth leading cause of death for all Americans. www.nami.org
8th grade was a pivotal year for my daughter. She experienced mood changes, and felt that everyone around her did not understand her. You can all probably say this is normal, as she is a girl, and going through mood changes is a normal behavior. Some will even call this behavior “teenage drama”.
However, three years later, she was still having these feelings and even experiencing scarier thoughts, like her life didn’t matter. She was also struggling with the demands of writing college essays, SAT tests, and really, just keeping up with the college admission process. I decided to seek professional help. After attending several therapy sessions with a Psychologist and a Psychiatrist, her mental health has improved. Also, support from her friends, family, her dog Ollie, and endless sleepless nights writing, has helped her feel that she is loved, and her life did matter. Nowadays, she is finally doing what she loves; writing, maintaining a healthy routine, spending quality time with Ollie, and looking forward to going to college. She is going to the Tisch School of the Arts at New York University.
I am sharing our family’s journey because I want to promote awareness about depression, and other mental health conditions. Let’s end the stigma and shame around mental health. Don’t underestimate your child’s changes in behavior, listen and follow your mother’s instinct. If you feel something isn’t right, speak with your child and don’t dismiss her feelings. Simply listen and show empathy, as most of the time, they are in pain, and don’t know what to do to end that feeling. Per the National Alliance on Mental Illness, NAMI, suicide is the second leading cause of death of youth ages 15-24.
My daughter wrote this short fictional story for her college application. When I read it, I understood what she was going through and everything made more sense. I hope you enjoy the reading as much as I did.
Hazel and Leah
By Arianna S.
The beach house sits high above the sand dunes. Look close enough out onto the horizon and the world seems to have ended. If Hazel focuses, she thinks she can see the edge. The edge of the world seems so close at the beach house.
Hazel thinks the beach house holds intense secrets, that stop her universe from spinning. It holds a blurring sense of time. Summer days constantly mix together, leaving her in a confused daze. Leah never thought that was the case. Leah thought the beach house brought new beginnings, never endings. Leah loves the beach house. Every summer brings something new when they stay at the beach house.
“I swear each time I step foot into this room it gets dustier and dustier,” Leah says. Leaving her unpacked bag on the floor, she jumps onto the bed with a wide smile. “God, I missed this place.”
Hazel places her last necklace on the dresser, gently playing with the dragonfly charm. In her pocket, her phone makes a noise, indicating a new message. She acts like it had never sounded and listens to Leah’s dreamlike wishes for the summer instead. Distracted by the dragonfly charm and the echoing ring of her phone, Hazel misses Leah’s last statement.
“Huh?” she responds.
Leah sits up, black hair unkempt from laying on the bed. Her grin is teasing, as it always remains. She said something important, but Hazel was too far off on her own world to notice, as it always remains.
“I said, I’m looking forward to the bonfire this year,” she says.
Hazel leaves the dragonfly charm alone and nods. “Those are always fun,” she mutters. She hates herself for sounding so monotonous.
As the two stared at each other for a silent beat, Leah must notice something because she crawls to the edge of the bed to get closer to Hazel. Her smile is kind, like welcoming spring flowers after a brutal winter. Hazel sometimes gets the feeling Leah deserves a better friend, someone as lovely as she is.
She takes one good look at Hazel before pulling her onto the bed with her. The bed creaks loudly as the two fall, giggling at nothing. Hazel turns to face Leah, who’s there already facing her with that kind smile. Leah’s light hand moves a curly strand behind Hazel’s ear.
“Come on,” she starts. “We have to enjoy this summer. I’m making it an obligation to have fun. It’s the last summer before you leave me,” she pouts.
Hazel’s heart rate picks up as she thinks about what the end of summer brings. She takes a sharp inhale at the thought.
“I would never leave you,” she promises.
“You say that now, but by the time you step foot onto that fancy college campus, you’re going to forget you ever said that,” Leah says.
Hazel could never forget Leah. She’s too loud. She’s too stunning. She leaves too much damage. Leah makes sure you never forget her.
The days blend so easily together during the summer. It almost feels like a routine. Wake up. Live. Go back to sleep. It’s almost feels like a dream state. Ringing is stuck in her ear, a familiar tone constantly trilling from her phone. She ignores the ringing as much as she can for the time she has. Each day, they come in similar waves. It no longer feels real every time her phone rings. The lines of reality are becoming blurred with each passing day.
Leah wants to have fun. She has fun ideas, and most of the time Hazel follows her plans. Bike. Watch the sunrise. Swim. Watch the sunset. Leah tries to have fun and Hazel tries to have fun for Leah. She can only carry on for so long. Before she breaks down, she’ll follow Leah until the end. She feels disgustingly unmotivated. The awful guilt curling around her conscience nearly drowns her.
If she thinks about it for too long, she fully understands why she’s an awful person. A building regret stabs her chest when she thinks about herself. She thinks about her horrible qualities, but never lets Leah know. Leah would get upset at Hazel for thinking like that.
When they’re biking to their usual mountain top, Hazel watches Leah’s long black hair flow along with the wind. Hazel’s legs burn in exertion as she tries her hardest to keep up.
“Keep up, slowpoke!” she shouts. She turns around for a quick moment to grin and scrunch her nose at Hazel.
Hazel laughs and races Leah to the top. They’re racing against the sun, trying desperately to catch the sunrise. Hazel takes a shortcut, cutting through streets. She greets a few familiar faces on her way. Even with the distractions, Hazel makes it to the top first, triumphantly sitting on the damp morning grass. She watches the surf store owner open shop and plays with the stray sand. The small beach town slowly comes alive.
Leah comes soon after, panting. “How do you get up here so fast every single time?” she asks with mock frustration.
As they wait, the phone in Hazel’s pocket rings out. The familiar sound fills the silence. She lets it ring out, ignoring each tone.
“Shouldn’t you answer that?” Leah asks.
Hazel shrugs. “It’s just my mom,” she answers. “Probably just calling me to talk about college or something.”
The sun starts to peak out as the ringing starts again. Before turning back to watch the sunrise, Leah gives Hazel a look filled with questions and assumptions. The ringing is getting louder. Hazel tries to ignore the sound, desperately trying to focus on the ocean waves softly meeting the shore, but it only echoes throughout her ears.
She answers the phone exasperatedly, “Yeah?”
“I’m going to the pharmacy to print out the pictures you want to hang up in your dorm,” her mom begins. “If you want to add any more, can you send me them now?”
Hazel looks over at Leah for a short moment before responding to her mom, “No, it’s okay. Just the ones I sent you are fine.”
“Are you sure?” her mom asks with hesitation in her voice. “There are some cute ones with Leah that I can print out.”
Hazel’s hand curls up in the grass, knuckles white. Her toes curl into the ground and her throat tightens. She tries to relax her jaw. In front of her, the night sky fully disappears, replaced by purples and blues. It’s a sight she’s learned to love, but for now she ignores it in turn for the burning frustration fueling her spirits.
“Mom, I said it’s fine,” she responds, raising her voice enough to shock herself. She could feel her emotions rising, uncontrollable like the crashing waves of the ocean.
Leah places a comforting hand on Hazel’s clenched fist. It feels like a reminder.
Taking a shaky breath, she continues, “There are already enough reminders that she won’t be there.”
“Is this really the attitude you’re going with today?” her mom snaps. “I’ve been trying to contact you all summer, but you insist on ignoring me. You’ll regret this.”
It’s true. Hazel has done nothing to try to reach out to her parents, severing the ties as close as she can without hurting their feelings. Ignoring their texts is a lot easier when Hazel distracts herself away from her phone. Now, the uninvited phone sits in her hand.
“Almost like how I’ll regret not listening to you about my major, right?” Hazel challenges.
She listens to the deafening silence between the phone. Her mom has no response. She’s too busy trying to find the right words. Anything to keep Hazel from exploding involves deep thought.
“I’ll let you go,” she settles. “Make sure to eat something, okay?”
The phone call ends, and Hazel is left holding back tears. Her eyes burn from the fresh building tears. She forces herself to watch the sky paint itself. The sun rises as it does every morning. Sun rises at the beach capture nature’s beauty. More than anywhere else, the sky by the beach house holds a sense of beauty in a world of chaos.
After a minute, another text comes in. A notification from her dad appears on the screen, and she screams as she slams the phone on the ground. Gripping tightly onto her curly hair, Hazel tries to ignore the ringing. It stops once the sun has taken its place in the sky.
“Are you okay?” Leah asks carefully.
Hazel exhales. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
She tries to avoid making eye contact with Leah at this point. Staring straight ahead works in their favor because if Hazel starts crying, Leah will follow soon after. They’ve always been easy criers.
“What am I going to do without you?” Hazel continues.
Leah eventually makes Hazel look at her. Her soft hand leaves a reassuring trace.
“You’ll be fine without me,” Leah promises.
The bonfire happens at the end of summer. This is the time when all of the growing teens gather around to share the emotion of deep longing. They long for an eternal summer. They long for carefree days. They long for more time. Hazel would beg to every deity, god, high power or whatever stood above humanity for a longer summer. She wants more time with Leah. She wants more time with the sunrise.
It all feels wasted. There were so many opportunities for more. She doesn’t know what could have been more, but she knows there’s an empty space somewhere.
The bonfire brings people together, but Hazel has never felt lonelier. She sits close to the bonfire, watching Leah dance along with the flames. Leah dances to the song, perfectly in sync with each tune. Her black hair ties up into a ponytail, hair away from her face, allowing everyone to admire her soft features. Her eyes are closed as she listens to the music, like she’s in a trance. Hazel watches dazedly, tired eyes trying to focus on her effortless moves.
Leah opens her eyes to meet Hazel. She grins before running back to join Hazel in relaxation.
“Why won’t you dance with me?” she jokes, fully aware of Hazel’s hesitation to dance.
“I’m good here,” she says.
Hazel turns her focus to the ash gathering. The ash builds and builds. The longer they sit in silence, the longer and brighter the fire burns. The night sky is so close the reaching fingers of the flames. The flames are reaching out for something. Hazel feels like she’s reaching out for something, too. She reaches out for something intangible to grasp.
Pulling her gaze away from the flickering flames, Hazel hears somebody call out her name. She turns around to meet four familiar faces from school. They all smile, meaning well.
“Hazel!” one calls out. “How’s your summer been?”
She looks around for Leah, but she realizes she’s lost her. She assumes she went somewhere while Hazel was stuck in her trance.
“It’s been good,” she says.
Three of them nod, shifting gazes between each other. It’s awkward to witness because Hazel feels like she shouldn’t be a part of the conversation anymore. They’re being careful around her. She hates that people have to be careful around her. She hates that people see how fragile she is. She hates how she’s sensitive enough to let it be known. One of them looks out of the loop.
“Hey, is Leah Park around? I haven’t seen her in forever. How’s she doing?” he asks innocently.
The three desperately try to shut him up by sending glares and harsh subtle shoves. Hazel hates how they apologize.
“It’s okay,” she reassures. “I’m going to go get something to drink.” She barely escapes by stalking off in the opposite direction of the drinks.
Her feet take her so far away from the fire, but she can still feel the burning heat. Her knees give up beneath her. The sand scratches against her bruised knees. The cold ocean water meets her scorching skin with each broken wave. Looking out, Hazel thinks she can the edge of the world.
Before she knows it, freezing tears are sliding down her tanned face. She feels like screaming against the waves, against the ringing of her phone, and against the loud chatter of the beach. Instead, she sobs quietly to herself.
Tears are falling continuously before she can realize it. A soft hand touches her bare shoulder. Hazel doesn’t have to turn to see who it is.
“Why are you crying?” Leah’s quiet voice asks. “Please don’t cry. You’ll make me cry.”
Hazel looks to her best friend. Her lip quivers and her eyes shine with tears. It looks like her eyes are filled with stars.
“Why are you still here?” Hazel whispers. She’s met with no answers. “Why are you still here?” she shouts.
Leah is crying. “Hazel, you need to start living. Stop worrying about the future. I know you’ve been fading away, losing hope. I don’t want to see you fade.”
“How can I not when I’ve ruined everything!” her voice cracks. “My parents aren’t happy with my major and I feel like I’m disappointing everyone.”
Leah grabs Hazel’s hands, gripping tightly. “You’re doing your best. That’s all that matters.”
“I can’t do this anymore.”
The anger that fills Leah’s expression is unnerving. It’s strange to see her upset. Hazel feels the need to fix it. She never wants Leah to ever feel any negative emotions. She wants to protect Leah from everything.
“I killed myself!” Leah shouts. “I couldn’t take it anymore and now I’m dead because I was a coward. You need to promise me you’ll try harder.”
Hazel could never accept Leah’s death. She squeezes her eyes shut and clings onto Leah’s hands.
“Leave me alone already!” she screams, voice hoarse. “Leave!”
The hands are gone.
It was never her fault. She had nothing to do with Leah’s death. For a long time, she thought it was her fault. Hazel had convinced herself Leah’s death was her fault. Hazel was the one who ignored Leah’s call for help. Her calls were nearly silent, barely there. Nobody could find anything wrong with the way Leah smiled because her smile reminds everyone of spring flowers.
In the cold winter, spring flowers crumble.
Leah couldn’t handle the crushing pressures of the future. She had dreams, but nothing could stop the depression plaguing Leah’s beautiful mind. One day, one frigid winter night, Leah decided to end it all, cutting any hope for the future by stopping her life short.
Hazel wakes up with sand in her hair. The sun is barely peeking above the horizon. She feels numb. She’s been trying to move past. She’s been trying, but it never feels enough. Spending the entire summer by herself at the beach house made Hazel realize all of the self hatred has been building to destroy her. As summer comes to a close, she finds it in herself to fully accept the unpredictability of the future. The uncertainty of her family relationship remains a wavering. She accepts Leah’s death as the result of an untreated mind.
“Promise me you’ll keep going,” Leah’s sweet voice whispers.
Hazel turns to see her friend sitting next to her. She’s smiling. It’s a sad smile, so unlike her usual bright grin. Hazel watches the beach’s sunrise for the last time.
“I promise.”
When she turns to where Leah sat, she’s gone.
The summer has ended. She’ll start her new life without Leah.