"Dear someone, today will be a great day and here's why."
I knew what I was walking into when I saw Dear Evan Hansen this past week. I knew that I was probably prone to a mental breakdown and possibly going to have some sort of emotional whiplash sitting through this emotional roller coaster of a show. The story is concurrent, a show that wakes every teenage issue into existence. And sure, this will not be the first of this kind of article. NYT, Times, Chicago Tribune: they've all posted articles mentioning the same point. There will be teenagers across the country listening to the score, seeing a touring cast, or lucky enough to get a ticket who will find some sort of relationship with Ben Platt’s masterpiece of a protagonist. However, I must say this: I am a walking example of Evan Hansen.
If you do not know what the show is about, here is a straightforward plot:
"All his life, Evan Hansen has felt invisible. But when a tragic event shocks the community and thrusts him into the center of a rapidly evolving controversy, Evan is given the opportunity of a lifetime: the chance to be somebody else."
This show serves as a rollercoaster of a plot. I walked out of the theatre in the first act in hysterics. I clung onto my grandmother's arm, relapsing with flashbacks beyond belief. I realized all of his struggles were my own. His struggles with social anxiety mirrored my own. His attempts to fit in also are identical with what I have been going through in my life. His development of a relationship with Zoe, throughout the story, is similar to what I go through trying to talk to a girl. I also understand the life behind the screen: what you can hide and what happens when things go viral. This story happens practically daily to many teens across the country, myself included. The struggle of being forgotten and found is a constant challenge to many who partake in it.
I understand this is only a fragment of the complexity of social anxiety. Social anxiety is such a large concept to understand with its varying degrees of intensity. Some deal with it more than others may. For me, I mirror Evan's with constant stuttering, relationship anxiety, being forgotten by others, and some days thinking about the future and others being discovered by some course of fate (not through lying, however).
There is a point to this article, however. There are people out there like me, like Evan, who just simply appreciate a simple phone call. There are people who don't want to be alone anymore and would like to be invited out places. There are people like Connor who debate on taking their own life to end the suffering they go through. There are people who would love to have a conversation or a rant or an opportunity to help someone in need. So please: pick up the phone. Text somebody, ask them out for lunch, call them. Being forgotten sucks; having social anxiety sucks. It takes one action by someone to potentially change a life. And to the people who are like Evan or Connor, you are not alone.
"Even when the dark comes crashing through. When you need a friend to carry you. And when you're broken on the ground. You will be found."
You are not alone.
The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available 24 hours/day, call 1-800-273-8255
