I guess it was that night we both stayed at a friend’s house, when I lay with my head resting on Liam’s chest as it rose and fell with every silent sob. There, in his arms, I began to understand. Maybe it was the late hour, or maybe it was just us – teenagers in love for the first time and trying to figure out what that entails. Our drowsiness chased away hesitation and created a level of trust we hadn’t experienced before. Honest thoughts and emotions began to pour out.

I told him when I was eight I tried to kill myself. I hadn’t planned it; the idea just came when I saw the cliff. My childish mind comprehended the world in a simple way. I thought of it like a puzzle, and myself as a piece that just didn’t fit, a Monopoly figure that had ended up in the wrong box. Just as that figure could be lost in the puzzle box, I thought I could disappear and no one would notice.

I thought when someone was born, a place was made for them in the world, and that I had been forgotten. My dad was gone most of the time, and my mom wasn’t really present; I always felt like a burden and a bad kid. To be fair, I was a bad kid. I was rude and disrespectful and just not a good person. I still am. Maybe I did have a place. Maybe I just destroyed that place. Maybe it was that thought that drove me toward the edge of the cliff. Whatever the reason, my aunt stopped me before I made it, and just as quickly as the idea had come to me, I gave it up. That thought, however, lived in my mind, always there, always nagging. As I aged it intensified, but with it came the understanding that suicide was selfish. I dismissed the thought, knowing it would be a terrible thing to do to the people who loved me.

I had never told anyone those things before. Liam in turn admitted suicidal thoughts sometimes forced their way into his consciousness. He said he thought he was mean and a bad person. He told me how he had never had any close friends, that he saw himself as a shell of a person, uninteresting and boring. How he felt as if none of his friends really liked him, and if their friendship ended none of them would be broken up about it. He cried and told me he had never talked to anyone about his feelings, not even his family. That surprised me, because he was widely liked, and it never seemed like he had a problem in the world. I had envied him for that. I began to see I wasn’t the only one plagued by insecurity and sorrow.

We lay there for a long time in silence. His breathing steadied, and his tears began to dry.

“Thank you,” Liam whispered.

“Don’t,” I said. “I didn’t do you any favors. I wanted to listen, and I’m glad you opened up to me.”

He hugged me. “I love you. I really do. You mean so much to me.”

“I love you too,” I replied, and that was all for a few minutes. I was peaceful and content, despite our confessions of the chaos of our thoughts and emotions and the pain it caused.

I listened to his heart, the steady rhythm of the bu-bums slowed as we lay there, still and silent. Finally, I looked up at him, his face illuminated by moonlight.

“I’ve felt alone for so long,” I confessed. “I never felt like I belonged, always that I had to navigate the world on my own. As if I was never meant to be here, like I was forgotten, like no place had been made for me when I came into this world. I felt like I needed to take care of other people but they had no obligation to me because I didn’t matter,” I rambled, trying to explain emotions I had never even noticed, that had always just been there. “You make me think about those feelings, feelings that I was so used to I never even thought to question. You make me feel like I was wrong, like I do matter. I’ve never meant much to anyone, no one’s really bothered with me. You care about me. I sound cheesy and conceited-”

“You don’t,” Liam interjected.

“Eh, I do … but I’m trying to share very real emotions. What I’m saying is that I’m a part of your world – and not because I’m family that you’re stuck with, or because our lives overlap in some way you can’t change. I’m part of your life because you want me to be. With you it’s like there’s a place for me.”

He kissed my forehead.

“And you know what?” I continued. “All the crappy stuff is still there. The pain, the difficult things, but you know how when you were little and you’d watch a scary movie and want to sleep in someone else’s room and not be alone? Like when you’re alone, the evil monster will get you but when you’re with another seven-year-old all of a sudden the murderous beast is powerless against you? I mean, where’s the logic there? It’s like that. Everything that sucks is still there, but now I don’t feel desolate. There just needs to be a tiny place for me and only me and I’ll be okay. You make me feel safe, like I’m no longer alone.”

He held me tight. “That’s it. That’s how I feel too. I love you so much. I appreciate you.” He moved so he could look at me. “You just make me so happy. You’re incredible, you know that?”

“Meh, adequate-” I began.

“No-”

“But thank you. I love you too. I’m glad we’re talking like this. Although, I have to say, it’s super sappy. I think we need to talk about sports and monster trucks with flames to even this out. Maybe also just like head-butt each other for no reason and high five but, you know, the manly high five.”

Liam laughed. “I think you’re getting a little off track ….”

“Right. Well, yeah, happy feelings and love and whatnot. Good talk,” I said, unsure of what to say next and shamefully getting a little bored.

“Sounds good. We should probably go to bed.” He showed me his watch. It was past three.

“Ugh, why are you such a killjoy?” I teased, but I was tired too. I gave him one last hug, attempting to absorb as much warmth as I could before facing the icy air outside the warm blanket. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

That night I realized I wasn’t the only one who hurt that much, but it wasn’t until a few weeks later I understood everyone hurts that much sometimes.

On a social network I saw that a friend of mine, Calvin, had posted some very depressing things. Suicide-related things, and other upsetting stuff. I texted a mutual friend, Amy. She said she already knew that he was having a hard time. While we were talking I decided to ask, “How are things with you?”

They say people can’t connect over text, but I think the ability to communicate with another person without the intimidation of their presence can make being honest easier, which isn’t always good, but in this case it was.

“I’m not happy these days much, but I’m not unhappy either because someone has to keep Calvin up,” Amy replied.

Before that I hadn’t realized that it’s not just a select few angst-ridden teenagers who are crippled with this sorrow. In that moment it finally made sense. We all experience that pain.

There was nothing wrong with me or Liam or Calvin – or anyone; everyone felt this way. What adults don’t tell children is that when you grow up you will feel a sadness so painful you will think there’s something wrong with you or your life. A gut-wrenching sorrow that hurts so much you may question living.

It’s hard to believe it, but everyone feels that way sometimes. What’s more astounding? The best way to deal with it is to accept it. It’s okay to accept pain. It’s an emotion so strong it makes us wiser, brings us closer as it manifests itself in empathy, and lets us feel deeper. I found that once I accepted the idea that I would get sad sometimes and there was nothing I could do about it, I dwelled on it less. I also learned from Amy’s message that more important than our sadness is sometimes helping others with theirs. Helping others is therapeutic, and it’s good to let others help you. It’s okay to talk, and it’s fine if you sometimes don’t want to talk.

We all experience extreme sadness sometimes, and have different ways of dealing with it. We need to face the fact that it exists and accept it without letting it take over our lives. Also, if we ignore the pain or keep it like a dirty secret, it only builds up. In one of my favorite books, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, author Douglass Adams writes about an instructional book, which not-so-coincidentally shares the name of the actual book, that offers helpful information for galactic travelers. Now, navigating the galaxy can be very overwhelming, so the cover of the book (the one inside the real book) sports the words “Don’t Panic” in big letters. Navigating the intense emotions that develop as we grow up can be incredibly overwhelming, so please, approach them like you would space travel: don’t panic.