It was 5 p.m. and pitch black. The freezing, unforgiving wind made it difficult to walk in a straight line, while the threat of snowfall became very real. Armed with only a hoodie, I quickly stumbled over the numerous hills strategically placed to obstruct the journey back to my apartment. While I was trying to get used to the warmth again, my cell phone rang. After dancing to my ring tone for about 10 seconds, I glanced at the caller ID to see that it was a number I didn’t recognize. Usually I wouldn’t have picked it up, but after the little expedition I’d just had, I felt adventurous.

In a single, fluid motion, my phone slid open and I answered with a simple hello. I was greeted with sobbing. Not the weeping of someone who had recently lost a family member or the crying of a person who was just dumped from a long, intimate relationship, but the sobbing of someone who had lost interest in themselves ‘ and their life. My mind began to race and I didn’t know what to say or do. I could make out that it was a girl, but who was a question I could not answer.

I suddenly wished I was back out in the frigid cold fighting for heat instead of being in my warm room with the loss of all my senses. As calmly as I could, I politely asked who it was and waited patiently for a response. The shaking voice replied, ‘It’s me.’ The words themselves meant nothing, but it was her voice that told me who she was.

Standing in the middle of my room, we spoke for hours. I mostly listened as she told me of all her problems with school, friends and family. She told me she had lost hope and wanted to ‘end it all.’ Without going into further detail, I’m happy to say I convinced her to seek professional help, which she is now getting from her therapist, and contacted her roommates and friends to keep an eye on her.

In the past, I’ve voiced my opinion on suicide ‘ it’s stupid. I considered it a cowardly act. Given my own share of ups and downs, I’ve never considered suicide as a possible answer to my problems. However, it may seem that a considerable amount of other college students do not agree with me.

The rising college student suicide rate caused me to question society’s overwhelming pressure for young adults to get a six-figure income with medical benefits, a nice car and a nice house. To think someone was so pressured to the point that they could no longer handle it makes me believe that the glorification of the rich, famous and the successful is the culprit of their deaths. To dismiss someone who has died from suicide as crazy or stupid, as I have in the past, is the wrong approach. It is not the suicidal person’s fault, but society’s constant depictions of a happy person who has a wallet full of cash and the personality of a soap dish.

I would provide statistics, but my research left me disgusted. The well-organized tables of how many people die by suicide and the certain percentages of different suicide methods such as guns or hanging/suffocation caused me to feel sick to my stomach. This so-called useful information does nothing to help prevent suicide, but simply provides numbers.

How to deal with someone with suicidal tendencies has baffled people for years. I don’t know if there is life after death, but if there is, I don’t know what the consequences of taking one’s own life would entail. However, I do know that while there may not always be someone who will understand, there is always someone who will listen. And that is something we all want in life ‘ to be heard.