I could never have been Michael Collins the evening of July 20th, 1969. Almost no human could deal with being "the loneliest man in the universe," because as humans, one of our most basic needs is other humans. We must have other humans to care for and to care for us, or our lives are meaningless and hollow.
             Hollow is exactly how I have felt during times in my life I have been insecure and blind to the fact that I had people who dearly loved me and whom I loved right back. The summers after fifth and seventh grade tested me in ways I never thought possible. I have always been a bit of an individual, and my classmates using me as homework help and a butt of jokes occurred through much of elementary and early middle school. After years of either not noticing or not caring, this emotional trauma caught up with me. I realized that many of my so-called "friends" were simply using me, and my self-confidence and sense of self-worth went down the tubes. I felt helpless; I felt as though not a soul in all existence cared about me, and I stupidly contemplated ending my own existence. My parents kept me going from fifth grade until seventh; it did not last long enough. Thankfully, I went to a summer camp on Lake Wapogasset near Amery, Wisconsin. I met a few people whom I forged bonds that keep us in contact even today, almost three and a half years later. Realizing that these people cared for me and that I cared for them, I was quickly uplifted out of my depression and began showing more and more people how much I care.
             It was the summer after eighth grade that I met two girls, neither of which I could imagine my life without. Quickly I fell deeply in like with one of them, not realizing that the other girl, her younger sister, was deeply in like with me. As I do now, I talked to both of them for hours at a time, and soon the younger one was revealing to me her intentions on ending her life. She did not believe that she...