Early on the morning of February fourteenth, Cassidy Noelle English swallowed a bottle of pills. She was fifteen years old. She had shown all of the warning signs of suicide, but no one spoke out.
I was asked to give a speech at Cassidy’s funeral. I don’t know why her parents would ask me, it wasn’t like we were BFF’s or anything. We’d only been hanging out for a month and a half or so. Her mother later told me that she believed I was the sole reason that Cass hadn’t taken her life earlier than she did. It wasn’t supposed to be a compliment or anything, really just a simple fact. I decided not to give a speech, however, informing them that I really hadn’t known their daughter that well. I had only known Cass for a brief period of her life. A period that had already been stained with depression and angst. I had never known the real Cassidy, only the depressed Cassidy.
The funeral was beautiful, and Dawson met up with me at the wake. The entire time, I had absolutely no idea what to think. I was just going through the motions, much like Cass had in her final days.