About two weeks ago Netflix came out with a series based on a book by Jay Asher entitled Thirteen Reasons Why. Disturbing on several levels, I watched the first season with a sense of sadness, always hoping that one character or another would be able to help Hannah, the young lady who has committed suicide. I usually try to read the book before I watch something, but after listening to my colleagues talk about the series, I decided to watch it first. This is truly an amazing series.

I don’t want to spend any time going into the entire story, I’ll leave that for you to do. I do, however, strongly recommend viewing this 13 episode series.

What I have done is written a poem from the lead characters point of view.

I breathe the air of despair, not knowing why.

In and out, every waking moment a trial, I am the accused.

The mask I see reflected back at me, filled with pain, not knowing why.

My life is a charade, why would they? How could they?

The pieces of the puzzle, spread out before me, a mystery, for how long?

Each piece a variation on a theme. How do they fit together? Will they fit together? Should they fit together?

I search for the truth, and as my truth unfolds, I am lost, now knowing why.

Days pass and I circle the hole, fighting not to be consumed, but I can’t hold on. 

The puzzle refuses to come together. I am not whole and as unrequited love passes by, I cry, not knowing why.

Warm water cascades over me and as I slowly slide into nothing, why did she do it they will say.

Will they ever know why? Should they know why? I am tired of not knowing why.