Scrolling through Twitter, like I always do when I have a few minutes to kill, I come upon a headline that I won't ever be able to forget.

"Denver boy killed himself after being bullied at school, mom says."

Being that mental health is something extremely close to my heart, stories of suicide — especially teen suicide — tend to hit me hard.

But as terrible as it sounds, the initial headline isn't what brought me to tears. It was sad, of course, but unfortunately, it's something that makes headlines more often than it should. It wasn't until I clicked on the article and read it that my heart truly shattered.

This boy wasn't a teen like I'd assumed. He was nine years old. He'd spent less than a decade on this earth. He hadn't even reached double digits yet. He was a child.

And the further I read, the more broken my heart and mind and soul became.

Jamel Myles, of Denver, Colorado. Age nine. He'd recently come out to his mother as gay. Many stories of LGBT+ kids coming out to their parents end badly, but this wasn't the case for Jamel. His mother was supportive. She made sure he knew that gay or straight, she still loved him.

His mother's support, however, wasn't enough. When he started the fourth grade after coming out, he was faced with relentless bullying. Four days was all it took. Four days. That was all the bullying that this sweet boy could stand. He killed himself in his home four days after starting school.

All he wanted was to be himself. To embrace every single part of himself proudly.

As I read and read several different articles about Jamel and his suicide, I came across so many comments that infuriate me to my core. But the one I saw most often was some variation of "How can a kid who's only nine know that they're gay?"

What upset me most about this comment is the pure bypassing of the fact that this kid, gay or not, had taken his life. Yet many people choose to focus on his sexuality instead.

For a lot of people without much exposure to the LGBT+ community, maybe this is a valid question. But there's a time and a place for it — and immediately following the death of a child isn't it.

Sexuality is not learned. It is not chosen. It just is. It's something that's as much a part of you when you're born as your fingers and toes.

And I think the more important question worth asking is how can children who are only in the 4th grade know so much hatred as to bully someone else to the point where they no longer want to live? How is that nine-year-olds know enough prejudice to tell another child that he should kill himself?

I've tried to let this story of Jamel Myles go and fade into the background like we seem to do with all tragedies that make national news. But unless something is done, he won't be the last child to fall victim to intense bullying on the basis of sexuality.

No one talks about LGBT+ youth suicide, because people aren't aware of it. I doubt many people know that LGBT+ youth are five times more likely to attempt suicide and three times as likely to seriously contemplate suicide than their heterosexual counterparts.

Jamel Myles and his family have been on my mind since I read the news of his suicide. I've cried for them. I've prayed for them. I've been angry for them. And I'll push for them. I'll push against the systemic discrimination and hatred toward the LGBT+ community. I'll push to make sure that the LGBT+ people in my life know they're loved and accepted.

I'm not a parent. It's not my place to feel like I should be able to tell parents how to raise their children. All I can do is reflect on how I was raised. I was taught to love. Love regardless of race, gender, sexuality, religion, etc. To treat people equally. To try and be a positive influence on those around me to be kind and thoughtful and tolerant.

We should be teaching children to love. To choose love, to give love, and to accept love in whatever form it may come in.