One day, there was a story... «Heaven»
ruda9521 августа 2023One day, there was a story about a bullied middle-schooler who had killed himself. A single spotlight fell onto a sheet of paper, and a solemn voice read an excerpt from his diary that sounded like a suicide note. When the voice-over was finished, the principal of his middle school and other concerned parties expressed their crippling guilt and bowed toward the camera, which cut to interviews with fellow students, their faces blurred. His family and his teachers and his classmates all claimed not to have noticed anything was wrong. What had they done to him—what made him do it? According to the program, they stole his things and shook him down for money, but the worst part was how violently they beat him. If I turned off the TV, the news would go away, but life as I knew it wouldn’t change. There was no way for me to make my life go away. My thoughts made me want to scream at the top of my lungs, but I managed to bottle up the feeling and forced myself to acknowledge that I didn’t have it half as bad as the kid who killed himself. But that made me feel worse than ever. What could be more callous than using a suicide to make yourself feel better? Pretending to feel better wasn’t going to solve anything. Not if I was just pretending
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