Suicide Notes

by Michael Thomas Ford

No one ever tells you that when your heart breaks, you can feel it. But you can. It feels like something has crumbled inside you and the pieces are falling into your stomach. It hurts more than any punch ever could. You stop breathing, and for a while you can’t remember how. When you finally do, it feels like your throat has closed up, like you’re trying to suck air through a straw.

I tried to kill myself because of what happened with Burke. Not Allie and Burke. Me and Burke. During Christmas break.

I KNEW IT

I’ve never been so scared in my life. Not because of what I thought he might do, but because of what I’d done.

I read once that a third of all gay kids try to kill themselves. They say it’s because being gay is so hard in this world. They say that we won’t stop trying to kill ourselves until more people understand us, and until we live in a world where it’s okay for a guy to love another guy. That’s probably true. But there will never be a world where it’s okay to fall in love with your best friend’s boyfriend.

So now we’ve established that not only did I try to kill myself, but that I’m gay, too. That’s like having two cherries on your dog crap sundae. Or extra nuts. And now, of course, it’s all Cat Poop wants to talk about. Today he asked me to tell him more about what Rankin and I did together. It was completely embarrassing talking about that. Then he asked me how I felt about having sex. I told him it felt great, but that the best thing for me was thinking that Rankin wanted to do those things with me. It wasn’t the sex, really. I mean, you can kind of do that on your own, right? But having this other person want to do it with you, that’s pretty special. It means he likes you. At least, it should. I keep wondering what Rankin was thinking when he did those things with me. Had someone done those things to him? Is he really gay? Did he like me at all? I guess I won’t ever be able to answer those questions. I asked the doc, and he said that when people hurt us, the best thing to do isn’t to ask why they did it but to remind ourselves that it wasn’t our fault. In other words, either he doesn’t know what Rankin’s deal is or won’t tell me. Either way, I’m not sure I believe him. Maybe it was partly my fault. It’s not like I made Rankin stop. It’s not like I didn’t like what we did. It’s not like I didn’t want to do it. At least some part of me wanted to.

Kid’s dad shot her mother.” “Martha’s dad?” I said. “Blew her open with a shotgun,” said Frank. “Then killed himself. The kid saw the whole thing. When they found her, she was sitting between them on the kitchen floor, holding that damn stuffed rabbit. She’d been there two or three days. Aunt or something went over after she kept calling and getting no answer.”

If we’re keeping score, I think Martha just pulled way ahead of the rest of us.

I got kind of embarrassed, because I’ve never talked with anyone about how guys make me feel. But finally I said that when I think about going out with a guy, it makes me feel all kinds of things. I feel excited and scared at the same time.

“We don’t talk in my family,” I said. “We assume.”

It was his voice talking, but what I heard was Sadie.

“Who does she think she is?” I asked Cat Poop. “She goes and kills herself and all she has to say about it is ‘see you on the other side’? That’s completely fucked up.” “Maybe it’s all she could say,” said Cat Poop. “Maybe she didn’t really know why she was doing it.”

Seven little crazy kids chopping up sticks; One burnt her daddy up and then there were six. Six little crazy kids playing with a hive; One tattooed himself to death and then there were five. Five little crazy kids on a cellar door; One went all schizo and then there were four. Four little crazy kids going out to sea; One wouldn’t say a word, and then there were three. Three little crazy kids walking to the zoo; One jerked himself too much and then there were two. Two little crazy kids sitting in the sun; One took a bunch of pills and then there was one. One little crazy kid left all alone; He went and slit his wrists, and then there were none.

I know Allie pretty well, and I don’t think she’d stop being my friend because I’m gay. If I had just told her, things might have been different. Now I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance.

“I know I’m young,” I said. “But I also know how strong these feelings are, and I think I need to see what they mean.”

I don’t know what Squirrel’s problem is. He didn’t say. But if I had to take a guess, I’d say he’s probably got a couple of things going on. Maybe drugs. Maybe depression. Maybe both. You kind of start to catch on to this stuff when you’ve been here a while. It’s almost like every problem has a different smell. Squirrel smells like a combination of cigarette ashes and cotton candy. It’s not pretty.

It’s sort of perfect, when you think about it. Isn’t falling in love a lot like losing your head?

If you ever have to tell your parents you’re gay, there’s only one thing I can promise you: However you think they’ll react, they won’t.

They were both talking at once. Cat Poop was trying to interrupt them, but they were ignoring him. The only one not talking besides me was Amanda, so I looked at her and said, “How would you like to have a gay brother?” Then everyone stopped talking and stared at me. Amanda stopped chewing her hair and sat up. “That would be okay with me,” she said. “Why?” “Because you do,” I told her.

My father said, “Sweet Jesus Christ on a biscuit.” I swear to God that’s what he said. Sweet Jesus Christ on a biscuit.

“you’re too young to know if you’re gay or not.” “Do you care if I am?” I asked her. “Of course I care,” she said. “I mean, I don’t care, but I care about you, and if you were gay, then I’d be okay with it.” “Well, I am,” I said. “So I hope you’re really okay with it and not just saying that.”

the time my parents left, I think they were starting to understand that this isn’t just some phase I’m going through or something I’m doing to get back at them. They don’t get it all yet. Then again, neither do I.

I had a dream about Sadie last night. She and I were walking on a beach, talking about whatever we wanted and having a good time. Then, all of a sudden, she ran into the ocean. I thought she was playing, so I followed her. She was laughing and kept looking back to see if I was behind her. She started swimming, and I swam after her. She swam way out, and I was afraid we were going too far. I kept calling for her to slow down, but she wouldn’t. I couldn’t keep up with her, so I stopped swimming and let her get ahead. Finally she stopped and turned around. She called for me to come out to where she was, and I did. When I got there, she said, “Catch me if you can!” and dived down. I watched her swim beneath me. The water was clear, and I could see her kicking her legs hard and going deeper and deeper, down to where the water turned dark blue. Her hair was floating out around her head, and silver bubbles were coming from her mouth. I took a deep breath and dived after her, trying to catch her. She turned in the water and waved at me, trying to get me to come deeper. My chest was starting to burn because I was running out of air, and I pointed to the surface to tell her we should go up. She shook her head, and I saw her laugh underwater. Millions of bubbles shot out of her mouth and surrounded me like a net. I couldn’t see. Then I felt a hand grab my foot and pull me down. I tried to swim up, but that hand was strong. It was Sadie’s hand. Through the bubbles I saw her dragging m...

One of the best T-shirts I ever saw said, I WAS HAPPY ONCE, BUT I’M BETTER NOW. I’m going home today. Most people would say that they were “happy” about that. And I guess I am. I mean I am.

It’s weird, but I used to think she was the craziest one in here. Now she seems kind of normal. I don’t know if she’s gotten less crazy or I’ve gotten more crazy. Probably it’s a little of both.

me know. She won’t, though. She’ll forget about me as soon as she’s out of here. Maybe even as soon as I walk out the door. She doesn’t want to remember, and I can’t blame her. She’ll probably convince herself we were all ghosts, or a dream.

I wonder how many of us there are all over the world, how many kids in how many hospitals. How many Alices and Bones and Juliets and Rankins. How many Sadies and Marthas and Squirrels. How many Jeffs. And I wonder how many of us get out. I wonder how many of us are “happy.”

I’M SORRY I COULDN’T TALK TO YOU. I’M SORRY I HURT YOU. I DIDN’T MEAN TO. YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND, AND I WANT YOU BACK. I KNOW I’M SORT OF A DIFFERENT PERSON NOW, BUT I HOPE YOU’LL GIVE ME A CHANCE. I HAVE A LOT TO TELL YOU. LOVE, JEFF I could never send that. It’s too sappy. Even worse than hugging. Still, Allie kind of falls for that sort of thing. Maybe it would work. Or maybe she would just tear it up. I really don’t know anymore. I wonder if my parents would think it was weird if I asked them to stop at the card store on the way home.

Readers often tell me that they want a sequel to the novel, in which we find out whether Jeff and Allie are able to repair their friendship and move on. I will most likely never write that book. Why? For a couple of reasons. When you create characters that people strongly relate to, like Jeff, readers often come up with their own versions of what happens to the character after the book ends. Then, no matter what you write in a sequel, you end up disappointing someone, because the story doesn’t go where they think it should or want it to. The bigger reason is that I’m not sure it matters what happens with Jeff and Allie. The important thing is that Jeff has gotten to a place where he wants to try, where he is willing to talk about what happened in an honest way. What happens once he does is not really as interesting, at least not to me. I’d rather have readers think about what they believe happens when Jeff and Allie see each other again.

I happen to know there is a sequel so that is a lie (I actually wasn't sure I'll read the sequel when I started reading this book but I definitely will) but I really like this answer

Jeff says that he “didn’t ask to be saved” (here). Do you think he wishes his suicide attempt was successful at the beginning of the novel? If yes, do you think he still wishes that by the end?

at the beginning, definitely, but by the end? I'd say a small part of him still wishes that but that mostly no

Jeff describes Allie’s parents’ divorce, and how Allie’s father cheated on Allie’s mother with her best friend (here). Do you think Allie’s parents’ issues played into her reaction to Jeff kissing Burke?

oo I didn't even think about that (because I completely forgot about the thing with her parents) but yes absolutely

Why do you think Jeff is so opposed to those “girly” activities?

internalized homophobia

Do you think Jeff and Rankin’s encounters qualify as sexual assault? Why or why not?

absofuckinglutely. Rankin snuck into Jeff's room while he was asleep and started jerking off. there was no consent