Translator: Tara Furcini Reviewer: Denise RQ
"I want to kill myself. Kill me now. I literally want to die."
I hear these words around me each and every day
by friends, family, and classmates.
I hear these words with a different ear than many other teens hear these words.
I hear these words knowing the immense impact suicide has on one's life.
I'm 16, and last year, I lost my two closest friends to suicide.
Along with this, I've struggled immensely with my own suicidal thoughts
and my own levels of deep and dark depression.
Each time these words are thrown around,
I'm brought back to that life-shattering car ride,
when my mom told me Peyton killed herself.
Or the time I sat on the floor screaming,
"Why me? Why'd I have to lost another friend?",
after I heard the news about Beata's death.
These words are thrown around casually
not knowing the horrors they may cause for individuals, including myself.
When you think of depression, what do you see?
Is it a stick-thin girl? A dressed-in-black cutter?
These individuals could easily be depressed
but the bubbly, smiling person
you see before you today is also very depressed.
I vividly remember driving in a car with my mom
and her commenting on how, "That girl must be so depressed,"
purely because of her outfit choices and the way she carried herself.
"But so am I," I said, astonished. "So am I."
And yet, no one would think of the person that I am
to be someone that's dealing with depression.
Peyton killed herself October 31 of last year.
She was an amazing cross-country runner, an avid model UN competitor,
a great mentor for younger kids, and the best friend I could ever ask for.
She had a radiating smile that always managed to brighten the mood.
This helped save me.
Nobody thought of Peyton to be depressed, let alone suicidal.
When people thought of Peyton,
they thought of her incredible positivity, her amazing enthusiasm,
and her unwavering love and support.
Nobody thought of someone who was kept up brutally with insomnia,
or someone that could take their own life.
Beata had similar talents of being able to brighten the mood.
Her emanating positivity made everyone fall in love with her immediately.
This is what I experienced.
She wasn't someone to walk around dark, sullen, and gloomy,
she was someone to find something beautiful in each and every day.
My friends do not fit into societal standards of depression.
Everyone has their own personal story with their own levels of depth.
I suffer from depression. I suffer from depression.
Say it out loud; address it, smash the stigma,
because it's a real issue that's not going anywhere.
(Applause)
This is what Peyton made me do.
She made me address the fact
that I was mentally ill and needed help urgently.
On a spring Sunday night, I brutally cut myself with a bilocal pin,
leaving ragged red markings on my left forearm.
My parents saw these markings and asked what they were.
"A little mishap in a thorn bush," I responded.
After this, the conversation ended.
Because obviously, their sweet Julia
was rummaging around in a thorn bush on a Sunday night, right?
No. They're oblivious to the obvious truth:
that their sweet Julia was very depressed and purposely harming herself.
On Monday, Peyton saw these markings and asked what they were.
"A little mishap in a thorn bush", I responded.
This lie didn't go too well with her, though.
She knew then that I was in a very bad mental place.
She completely put me under her wing and gave me unfaltering love and support.
On Tuesday, I had a doctor's appointment to get a TB shot.
TB shots are injected directly into your left forearm,
and let me remind you
this is exactly where those red markings were still very apparent.
When I walked into the hospital,
I was very nervous of what the nurse would say,
of what they would say about the markings on my arm,
about what they would say about my health, and what they would say to my parents.
The nurse entered, rolled up my sleeve,
injected the needle, said goodbye, and left.
With no mention of the fact
a girl sitting before her so obviously was purposely harming herself.
Although I was nervous
of what the nurse would say about the markings on my arms,
part of me needed her to say something
because it was to the point where I needed more intervention.
The fact that were was no mention of the markings on my arms
made me crawl even deeper into myself and become even more depressed.
This sent Peyton into a rage though.
She was so mad that they would be so idiotic
and say nothing about the markings on my arm.
Peyton was my complete support mechanism. She gave me unfaltering love and support.
This is a lot of what our friendship was based off of.
Peyton made me speak about my depression. Mental illness is a silent epidemic.
Although one in five teens suffer from some sort of mental illness,
it is completely pushed under the rug, and we do not address it.
We talk about broken bones, and we talk about headaches,
but the mere thought of talking about mental illness
makes people run far and fast.
Last spring I wanted to kill myself. But I was done being silent.
I told my parents, and they brought me to the hospital.
They saved me.
I saved myself,
purely because I could speak about my depression.
I was able to climb...
(Applause)
I was able to climb out of that hole
and find the beauty that's still out there in this crazy world
purely because I could speak about my depression.
This is a message I want to spread far and wide.
Because of this, I created a project I call the "Yellow Tulip Project,"
which is meant to smash the stigma associated with mental illness
and try to bring hope and light into people's lives.
(Applause)
It is meant to remind people
even in the hardest and darkest of times, hope still really is out there.
Peyton's favorite color was yellow, and Beata's favorite flower was a tulip,
so for me, it is a perfect combination of my friends' lives.
Part of the project is planting hope gardens,
which is a community gathering,
while continuing to smash the stigma with mental illness
while planting yellow tulip bulbs into the cold ground.
In the fall, we planted hope gardens
at hospitals, schools, and communities all over New England.
Beata and Peyton put so much of their love and energy
into making people feel supported and cherished.
I believe that through this project, their legacy can continue on.
I'm a 16 year-old girl who lost my two closest friends to suicide.
I'm a 16 year-old girl who's a passionate musician, artist, worker, and scientist.
I'm depressed, but today, I am healthy.
(Applause)
"I want to kill myself. Kill me now, I literally want to die."
Please, just think before you speak.
Thank you.
(Applause)