The boat rocked beneath him as the waves crashed against its side. Sam gripped the sides of the small boat tightly, his knuckles turning white with effort. He had never felt so alone before, surrounded by nothing but the endless ocean.

It all started out as a simple fishing trip with his father. They had gone out before nightfall, hoping to catch something big to bring home for dinner. But the storm covered the sky in gray. The winds picked up and the waves grew rougher. Before they knew it, their boat had been tossed about like a rag doll.

Sam’s father had done his best to keep them afloat, but the relentless waves had capsized the boat, sending them both tumbling into the water. Sam clung onto a piece of driftwood, praying that someone would come to their rescue.

But now, hours later, there was still no sign of help. It is now pitch black, with only the sounds of the ocean surrounding them. Sam felt his heart sink as he realized that they might never be found.

He shivered as the cool breeze brushed against his wet skin, sending chills down his spine. Hunger struck, and his throat dry from lack of water. His eyes closed as he prayed for a miracle.

The stars twinkled above them as the night fell, casting a peaceful glow over the water. Sam felt his eyelids droop, as he fought to stay awake. But the lull of the waves was too soothing, and soon fell asleep.

When Sam woke up, he was no longer in the water. He was lying on a sandy beach, his father’s arm draped protectively over him. Sam blinked in confusion, wondering if he was dreaming. But as he looked around, there was a blanket of safety over them

Sam looked up into the sky, thanking a higher power. He knew that he had been given a second chance at life. And vowed to never take it for granted again.

I ask, is this right?

Should I continue my dream?

Breathe, just chase your dreams

It’s the 4th of July and we are headed to Grandma and Grandpa’s house as usual. we hop into the car and sit in our unspoken designated seats. My brother always gets behind the driver and I get the behind the passenger seat. The ride goes on and I can feel my eyes getting heavy. The sound of the tires against the asphalt, the faint beat I can hear coming from my brother’s headphones, while the radio plays in the background. The 4-hour drive feels like it gets longer and longer every year. We arrive and I hop out of the car and see nothing but fields for four-wheeling. Acre upon acre of untouched land waiting to be explored. I hear another car coming up the gravel driveway which will be the first of many as we always have a family reunion for this special occasion. The house is packed for dinner with over 20 people standing in Grandma’s tiny kitchen. Apple decor covers the walls from top to bottom. I go over and reach out to touch one of the apples. My fingers skid along its rigid texture. The smell of prime rib fills the house making my stomach grumble. The table isn’t big enough for all of us so the kids head to the living room and sit on the floor. My plate has prime rib, salad, carrots, and a baked potato. As I take a seat, in what feels like slow motion, my baked potato rolls right off my plate and hits the floor with a thud. In this house, we run off of the “5 second rule”. After dinner, we clean up and head outside for fireworks. I pop open my Grandpa’s tailgate, hop in, and lay underneath a starless night. I lay there staring at the moon and leave the reality that I’m in until, BANG! The first firework sets off and brings me back to the real world. I sit up and watch in awe as all sorts of colors light up the sky. My favorite firework are the ones that pop and then sound like rice crispies. Grandpa made sure to get a lot of those this year. Our night ends with cheers and claps from everyone as we all head inside in hopes to find a comfortable place to sleep for the night.

A Post-it Note. Seriously? It’s all you gave us for “validation” that you know what has happened today. But do you all really care? Or just want people to know that you put in the effort of acknowledgment. On this day we should be mourning the loss of a fellow student, but instead, we are just putting up sticky notes. No moment of silence, no offer of help or acknowledgment that it’s ok to ask for help. All you gave us were sticky notes around the school. One day passes by and; the notes are gone. It’s like we have forgotten about what happened hours ago to a friend, classmate, or group mate on a project. They are now just gone without a trace. This is one of the problems with our society. I hear time and time again to reach out for help if you need it but, when reaching out for help doesn’t work and the inevitable happens, we go silent. We tell our peers and ourselves that “it’s ok” or “I would never do that” but we soon just forget about what happened in a few short days. That’s how we get rid of our problems though right? It’s just easier to wipe our problems under the rug rather than talk through them to resolve them. This is why we aren’t ready for this conversation of actually making a difference. It is time to talk about the severity of suicide more often so that our next classmate, does not become a part of the forgotten.