Haven't blogged for sometime as I have been busy with so many things ranging from writing application essays, attending pool parties, debate practice to even playing "Your Call" on my guitar which has recently lost it's thinner E string.
Just wanted to share this short essay I wrote for an application. It's a true story and I hope that you learn something from it.
I don't want you to ever feel the regret I felt that night, so just push yourself to do the right thing, even though what's right often isn't what's the easiest to do.
An event that changed my life.
Two years ago, a friend of mine committed suicide. I knew him for about 7 months then. We were both scholars living in the same cramped hostel. He was a guy who always had a smile on his face, a smile that masked his inner demons he wrestled with.
I was walking past the HDB flats that lay between school and the hostel that fateful day. A crowd was gathered at one of the base of the flats. The police were there, and they zipping up a body bag. “Just another suicide,” I thought. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Back at the hostel, it was unbearably tense. There was one scholar that broke the curfew, that friend of mine who always smiled. My worst fears came true - I walked past my friend’s dead body just a few hours ago.
We never really knew why he jumped. He was a quiet guy and he kept to himself most of the time, but he never ever seemed distressed over anything. He just had that smile on his face whenever I waved hi. Some say that it was because he failed history; some said he had relationship problems; but the fact still remained – I was never going to see him again.
I felt guilty for his death – guilt that I wasn’t the friend who talked him out of taking his own life; guilt that I wasn’t the one who reached out to him and became his confidante. It made me realise that in life, just abstaining from sin isn’t enough – it’s just as important to step up and do what’s right and show the people we care about just how much we care.
From that point onwards, reaching out to that one quiet person in class was never a chore, it just was the right thing to do.
Why do I see Murakami stories everywhere?