Why is it that almost nobody will stand up for what's right? But yet we all want to be different in some way. To stand out from the crowd. Though hardly everybody is afraid to stand up and rise against for the sake of someone else, just because they don't want to be in the cycle of bullying.

So many people has past through my life. Some making a difference, some I barely remember. Out of every person there'll always be Jessica, my old best friend.

She had everything. Her own car, money, a perfect family. Life was great for her, or so I thought.

I, however, didn't have such a perfect living situation. My parents were divorced, and both of them were barely making it financially.

Every night at 6pm she would call me. I would complain about every little thing in my life. Never knowing she needed to be heard too, not just a listener.

June 10, 2012 were the two days before me and Jess and the rest of the class of 2012 was suppose to graduate. Me and Jess even arranged to sit next to each other at the ceremony.

That night I waited for Jess's phone call. I waited and waited. 7pm turned into 8pm. Finally at 9pm I walked over to her house. What I then saw I'd never forget. Three police cars and one ambulance with her in it. Eyes closed, blood leaking throgh her clothes.

I couldn't move for about twenty minutes. My crying increased by the minute realizing she was gone. I finally picked up my feet and ran to my bedroom. I wanted to fall asleep and wake up in the morning to find Jess still alive, still my best friend. My stomach went quesy realizing that will not happen.

When I got home just as i was about to lay onto my bed I saw I had a new email. Opening it and reading it, was almost impossible.

It was from Jess.

She explained how someone has been putting nasty notes in her locker and how she was being nonstopped teased and harassed. She told me her brother's friend raped her, and she was pregnant. How she tried to tell her parents she was bipolar and needed help, but her parents refused to believe. She included with the fact that she got my name tattooed on her wrist, and hoped I too will somehow remember her. She finally wrote, "I will always be watching out for you."

All of this, Jess was going through, and i had no idea.

The next day I skipped school and went to the hosiptal to see her one last time.On her wrists were cuts, deep cuts. Then on her left wrist was my name, Elia.

I was 18 at the time. I was saving up for acting camp. Instead I went to the nearest tattoo studio. I asked them to put Jessica on my left wrist.

I will never forget her. It's amazing how well people can hide depression. It's sad that no one notices. No one should ever be depressed to the point where they should commit suicide. Because of Jess, 15 years later, I am a therapist helping teens just like Jess to overcome it.

Jessica's name on my wrist is a mark that will never heal.