This is the first time that I have sat and watched something that was capable of striking every single string of emotions I’ve ever been able to feel, more so then I ever knew was possible. This is my first post here and it very well may be my last, but on this Monday night at precisely 1:08am after binge watching the Netflix series “13 Reasons Why” something told me I had to make sure this was heard.  

It may seem like I’m late to the party, but in all honesty that was not it. As a girl in her early twenties, I heard every girl my age talking about this new show that hit the top of the charts and was a “must see” over six months ago. I had read the book in high school and to be honest, it was one of my favorites for a long time, but a lot has changed since high school and although binge watching episode after episode of every series possible is one of my favorite things, this is not one I thought I could stomach. Tonight, after months, I thought I was ready and the key word here is “thought”. 

I’m not one who wants sympathy for the way things have panned out for me and that is not the intention with this post. My intention is to share why this Netflix series opened every single wound that I had thought to be healed. And by healed, I mean the aftermath of the deepest of wounds that is now a large, ugly scar that I try to keep hidden so I don’t feel like there is something making me different. I am sharing this because I know I’m not the only one. I know I’m not alone. 

My life was always normal. I have a normal family with parents who love each other more then I can ever imagine being loved. I was an amazing student. My parents made sure that I did not feel one ounce of pain as a child. My junior year of high school I met someone who continued that happiness and became the first boy I had ever loved. 

The first thing to ever catch my eye was his confidence. He was beyond handsome and he would make sure he made it known that he was well aware of that.  I fell in love with him for his contagious smile that lit up any room he entered and his heart that was much to big. I fell in love with him because of the poems  he would send me after I had fallen asleep every night just to remind me that I meant something. I loved him for how accepting he was for any person no matter who they were or where they came from. I loved him for every joke, smile, and even every tear. I  loved him because he was Patrick Aaron. 

But things aren’t always as they seem. This person, who was completely perfect in my eyes as well as the eyes of every person he touched in his short life, didn’t see himself the same way. As many times as I tried to show him himself through my eyes, I didn’t succeed. In July of 2014, my life, as well as every other person who had the pleasure of knowing him, changed forever. 

Suicide is not a joke and it’s not something that should be taken lightly and created into a pass time in order to get reviews. A gruesome scene with blood and razor blades shouldn’t be the way to hit the top of the charts. This is what is wrong with the world we live in. Glorifying an epidemic that has taken so many lives isn’t the way to spread awareness. Not once in that show did they put a suicide hotline or the correct steps to take in order to get help. All that was shown was a young girl who was beat down without one person batting an eye; a young girl that thought there wasn’t one person keeping her here. 

For anyone reading this, you are worth it. You are good enough and just because your at the bottom right now it does not mean it’s the end.