Aging Capriciously

Each semester the Graphics Multi-Media Students select a global issue that is meaningful to them and then create a logo and infographic about their issue.

For the next several weeks, my blogs are going to consist of “autobiographies” written by some very special people.  They have one thing in common.  They are all dead.  Some have a burial place and some were simply discarded like pieces of trash.  Their stories will be told by the deceased themselves.  They cry out from the fields, rivers and graveyards to speak.  I have heard their cries.  They want me to tell their stories to you.  They want you to know what their living and dying was for.  This week, Josh will tell you the story of his life and death.

Josh the Teenager

They are sorry now!  They are all weeping and crying.  They care more about me now that I am dead then they did when I was alive.  All I ever heard from Mom was her telling her friends how handsome I was and what I good student I was.  Bullshit!  The only time Dad ever talked to me was to tell me how well Robert (my brother) was doing in law school and why couldn’t I be more like him.

Robert was a real suck-up.  He is 21 years old and is forever gloating about his accomplishments in school and in sports.  The big shot was our high school football hero.  Dad spent all his time with him and never had any left over for me.  Robert was a four letter athlete and was in every league in town.  If he wasn’t getting A’s in school, he was getting medals and trophies for his athletic exploits.  I hated him.

I also have a sister Maria who is fourteen years old and the most popular girl in the high school.  That’s because she goes to bed with anyone who has a zipper in their pants, girls as well as boys.  Mom and dad think she is an angel.  She is the biggest slut in school.  My friends are forever making fun of me about her.  Like: “When can I come over and screw your sister?”

My father works for an investment firm as some kind of an analyst.  He makes good money but is always busy.  He probably invented multi-tasking and 24/7 work.  Anytime, I ever suggested doing anything together, his standard reply was:  “Great idea.  Let’s hold it for a while until I catch up on my accounts.”  I have been holding it for seventeen years and still waiting.  He can go to hell.  I hate him also.

My mom was some sort of a medical worker in the local hospital.  She did not like to cook or clean so we went out to eat a lot.  Twice a week, we had a housekeeper come in to do our laundry and straighten up the house.  Mom spent a lot of time at Robert’s ball games.  She also spent a lot of time shopping with Maria.  My mom liked to spent money on clothes and sometimes I could not decide whether Maria was the teenager or my mother was the teenager.  My friends all said that my mom was one hot MILF.

I am seventeen years old and a junior in high school.  I have a Facebook page and do lots of on-line stuff.  I hate school and I hate my teachers.  I hate most of the kids in school.  The majority of them are either jerks or snobs.  I don’t belong to any groups and I mostly hang around with one or two friends.  My father wanted me to play sports but I knew I could never be as good as my brother so why bother.  The teachers at my school treated me like I did not exist.  I was a B student and I can’t say I really excelled at anything.  Most of the time, I felt like a born loser.

I often thought of making a big name for myself by blowing up the school or maybe killing both of my parents and my sister and brother but I decided against it.  Not that I did not think they were good ideas but what if I screwed up?  My father was forever telling me what a screw up I was.  What if I screwed up my high school massacre?  What if I botched killing my entire family?  That would prove what a screw up I really was.  I decided that I could not risk it.  Safer to simply kill myself!

I thought of shooting myself but that would be too messy.  I thought of jumping off a high bridge but that might not be fatal.  I had heard of too many people who had survived such falls.  I finally decided to hang myself.  I would hang myself in the closet at home.  That would be great.  They might not find me for a few days and they would be worried sick.  That would serve them all.

Anyway, I could be pretty sure if I killed myself at home mom and dad would be the ones to find me.  And sure enough they did.  The look on my mom and dad’s eyes was priceless.   There I was swinging from the clothes hook suspended by a leather belt which I had wrapped around my neck.  I had stood on a small step stool and kicked it far away so that I could have no second thoughts.  It was much less painful than I had imagined.  A few choking breaths, a feeling of swelling in my head and that was it.  Lights out!  I think I must have died about ten minutes after I kicked the stool away.

I am hanging with my tongue and eyes bulging out.  My face is quite red and swollen.  I look rather pitiful.  There is a pool of piss on the floor under me and an awful smell coming from my pants. I suppose I shit myself when I died.  I am glad.  They deserve it.  I hope they are really sorry now for the way that they treated me.  I just wanted them to like me for who I was.  But no, I was never good enough.

It seems like our society is full of heroes and idols and celebrities and athletes and rich people and music stars and famous politicians.  I was a B person in an A society.  Nobody cared about me.  Nobody gives a damn about B people.  Not my mother, father, sister, brother or teachers.  I was not popular or smart or athletic enough to get the girls like the A guys got. The only girls that were interested in me were the losers like I was.  I went out with one girl once and that was my last date in high school.  We kissed a little but she got all agitated when I put my hand on her tit.  She asked me to take her home.  I was a loser with girls as well.

Well, now they will all be sorry.  Screw them.  I don’t care.  They had it coming.  I finally feel like somebody cares about me.  It only took my death before I really mattered to anyone.  I look forward to visiting my funeral service.  That should be funny.  I can imagine all the good things that they will say about me.  At last they will all be able to spend some time with me, even though I am now dead.

I am going to go look for God now.  I would like to ask Her why I was such a loser.  How come I did not get the brains or skills or something that would have made me stand out and be noticed?  Why was life so unfair to me when everyone around me seemed to get some sort of special treatment?   Maybe God will be able to tell me why I was a loser.

Time for Questions:

Can we spot potential teenage suicides?  Are we taking neglecting our teens?  What do we have to do to help decrease teenage suicides?  How does our culture contribute to the problem?

Life is just beginning.

Suicide (i.e., taking one’s own life) is a serious public health problem that affects even young people. For youth between the ages of 10 and 24, suicide is the third leading cause of death. It results in approximately 4600 lives lost each year. The top three methods used in suicides of young people include firearm (45%), suffocation (40%), and poisoning (8%).

Deaths from youth suicide are only part of the problem. More young people survive suicide attempts than actually die. A nationwide survey of youth in grades 9–12 in public and private schools in the United States (U.S.) found that 16% of students reported seriously considering suicide, 13% reported creating a plan, and 8% reporting trying to take their own life in the 12 months preceding the survey. Each year, approximately 157,000 youth between the ages of 10 and 24 receive medical care for self-inflicted injuries at Emergency Departments across the U.S.

Suicide affects all youth, but some groups are at higher risk than others. Boys are more likely than girls to die from suicide. Of the reported suicides in the 10 to 24 age group, 81% of the deaths were males and 19% were females. Girls, however, are more likely to report attempting suicide than boys. Cultural variations in suicide rates also exist, with Native American/Alaskan Native youth having the highest rates of suicide-related fatalities. A nationwide survey of youth in grades 9–12 in public and private schools in the U.S. found Hispanic youth were more likely to report attempting suicide than their black and white, non-Hispanic peers.  (Center for Disease Control and Prevention)