Over the edge...

                A few days ago, I happened to read an article about a college student who had killed himself because his hair loss treatment was not showing any significant results. The first thought that came to my mind was, "how can anyone be so stupid". But then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that as sad as this incident was, the student is not to blame. It is the society that is to be blamed. The society, which with its cruel hands has strangled this young boy to death.

                 I wonder what could have possibly happened that could have driven him to such extremes  I put myself in his shoes, and then I see it. I imagine him with his friends. I see him putting a happy face, cracking jokes amongst them, but I hear him think about how different he felt among them - how out of place. I see him walk the streets and feel invisible. On the rare occasion that someone noticed him, I see him flinch at the way they looked at him - like he didn't belong. I see him try to have a conversation with someone, he seemed very animated. Then I see him notice how their eyes would always look above his eyes, wondering how odd  he was and being grateful that he couldn't hear them. But he saw right through all of them. Disgusted, I see him argue with himself on deciding whether or not to try and get treated for it. I see his sensitive self win, and he approaches a doctor for treatment. I see him waking up every morning since his treatment started, looking in the mirror for the slightest change. I see his face contort in disappointment when he found none. I see him suffer the routine of college and friends and the odd looks they gave him. I see him wish. desperately, that this wouldn't matter to him, but he knew it did. Too much. I see him torment himself this way for days. I see him break and crumble. I see him lose every shred of self confidence he ever had. Then I understand, that he did not kill himself, a shallow and vain society did this to him.

               He was a good person. He cared about his family as much as he missed them. Living most of his life in a hostel, he'd never had enough time with them. He had his own demons that he had to face every day. One more demon was more than he could handle.

               I do not think that this is the only blood upon our society's hands. So many people's self esteem, is stabbed, bruised and trampled everyday by the judgmental world. I, undeniably am a part of that world and that shames me to no ends. That every judgement we make, consciously or otherwise, is another crack in the person's confidence. Whilst we revel in the thought that they can not hear us think, we forget that one's eyes are the windows of one's souls. Disgust and hatred can be conveyed with a single look just as well as happiness, love, sadness and pride can. We do not realize how much damage can be done, just with our thoughts. We do not know whose blood is on our hands...