A student at my school died last Friday in a car accident.
I didn't know him. I didn't even recognize the name. I feel like an awful person for not caring that much.
Even though he went to my school, he might as well as been on the other side of the world. I'm sure he had plans and dreams for the future; and it's always sad when someone dies, especially when the someone is young and the death completely unexpected, but as a person he means nothing to me. The few people I am friendly with at school hadn't ever heard of him either.
On Monday morning an announcement went over the PA saying that the guy had died and school counselling services were available to anyone who wanted them. Also, we will have classroom visits from the counselors to discuss traffic safety.
On Monday evening, there was a schoolwide memorial service. Over two thirds of the school reportedly showed up. I didn't go. I don't share the memories.
This morning, I witnessed the guy's girlfriend (now transformed into a local celebrity) being followed by a shroud of weepy girls telling her how sorry they are. As I watched, I thought horrible, selfish thoughts.
Can you guess what they are?
Eva died during the summer, not in the middle of the school year. It's pretty understandable that the school wouldn't make a huge hullabaloo once we all got back, and it would've been Eva's first year of high school, so it's questionable that the administrators even knew she once had existed.
But it's the behavior of the students that bothers me. No one ever once offered even an ounce of comfort. Instead I got bullied. And after a few weeks, when they had found someone else to pick on, Eva disappeared. I've not heard her name mentioned out loud in public for over two years.
I became invisible too.
Is there really that much of a difference between someone killing themself and something killing them when it comes to the survivors?