Trigger warning: suicide, suicidal thoughts

“Aria killed herself this morning.”

Those were the words my dad told me over the phone on Jan. 6. I had to pull my car over in a parking lot and just sob. 

Aria, my little sister, was dead. She suffered from depression even though she always seemed so bright and happy. Every time I went to my dad’s house, she would run out of her room and hang out with me all weekend. We would be out in the pool or playing Roblox together. 

When she started playing the flute, she seemed so excited. I told her we could do a clarinet-flute duet one day when she starts practicing more. 

Now we never can. 

I was so excited for her to start band because Blue Springs High School has ranked top 10 nationally for its marching band. I wanted to see her be a part of that and play her flute.

Now I never can. 

Aria was a dancer. I saw videos, and she seemed so passionate. I always wanted to go to one of her dance performances one day. 

Now I never can. 

She was a little me. 

It’s so difficult to think about all she was going through and how I never even noticed anything. She felt like she was no one’s No. 1. She felt like she wasn’t enough, and she felt like she wasn’t pretty. 

And when I think about it, I’ve felt all of those things, as well. About two years ago, I felt like I wasn’t enough for anyone and that I was ugly. I hated myself so much, and the fact that Aria was going through almost the same, but it got to a point where she killed herself. It’s just so heartbreaking. 

If only I had texted her. If only I had gone to her band concerts. If only I had gone to her dance competitions. If only I snapped her more often. If only I had sent her more TikToks. If only I had shown up at the house more often. If only. 

But I’ve realized I could go back and forth with the “if onlys” forever, and nothing will ever change, but there is a chance I can prevent it from happening to my family or friends. 

I usually joke around with my friends and make fun of them. Like, “what’s wrong with your hair?” or “you’re so fat” or “you smell so bad today.” The list can go on. I tell myself that “it’s just my friends; they know I’m joking.” 

But those “jokes” were the reason I had poor body image. 

Someone said I looked like a monkey with how much hair I have on my arms and legs. I shave every week now. Someone said I was too loud. Now I hate my voice. Someone called me fat. I hate my body. 

That’s just the surface. 

Some might say, “But they’re just jokes, you’re just sensitive.” And maybe I am, but I know I’m not alone. 

Everyone is insecure about something in their life, and most of the time, it’s from a friend “joking” about it. I want to encourage people to be careful about what they say to their friends because I can almost guarantee that they are insecure about something their friend has said.

I want people to check up on their friends even if they seem “OK” because in the end, you will never know what anyone is going through.