“The next life has more to offer. XOXO Brooke.”

Those were the last words of Brooke Russell, a 16-year-old who took her life with a single bullet on March 17, 2013.

Her story was sensationalized with charges against her brother and father for how they reacted after Brooke was found, charges that were later dropped. The case was so staggering, I feel what was swept aside was Brooke.

What made this sweet girl decide to take her life? What could be so huge to push her to make such an ultimate decision? Even her suicide note was vague; what did she mean, “More to offer?” How did she even know what this life had to offer? It had hardly even begun.

It was not until the beginning of this semester that I heard about another suicide, and then another.

Daisy Coleman, a 16-year-old involved in a high profile case out of Maryville, Mo., was rushed to the hospital on Sunday, Jan. 5, the result of a suicide attempt that she luckily survived.

Madison Holleran, a 19-year-old student at the University of Pennsylvania, was not so lucky. She jumped to her death on Friday, Jan. 17. Apparently she was stressed over classes.

“It was easy for her in high school,” her father, James Madison, was quoted as saying in The International Business Times. “There was a lot more pressure in the classroom at Penn. She wasn’t her normal happy Madison. Now she had worries and stress.”

All these tragic choices made me dig into Missouri’s history. What I found was disheartening. Seemingly happy teenagers are taking their lives in our very own back yards.

In Neosho on Thursday, Aug. 30, 2011, 18-year-old Will McDaniel took his life with a single gunshot. He was a graduate of Neosho High School and was expected to go to Graceland University in Iowa, where he had signed an intent to play football and track; essentially, his future was bright.

St. Clair saw an even larger tragedy in the fall of 2012 when three unrelated students, all from the same high school, took their lives in a two-month timespan.

Most recently, in Warrensburg on Friday, April 11, 2014, an 18-year-old killed himself in his car after he was spotted at his high school with a shotgun.

This all brings me back to my main question: Why? What could be such a big deal to do something so permanent? Then I have to sit back; I cannot help but remember.

I was a mess of a teenager, so full of angst. I cut my beautiful long hair off and colored what was left a hideous shade of blue-black. Wore camouflage to my homecoming, before dresses were made that way. Every feeling I had then, I felt so deeply, as if no one had ever felt as deeply as I did, in love or in pain.

I remember one night getting close to making that ultimate choice, that final decision. I remember thinking I could not handle another minute of feeling such deep pain. I could not see the future, for the moment was so blinding.

I am a coward, though, and could never hurt myself. I also had a feeling that I could never shrug, the feeling that this is just the beginning, just the prelude to a great story. Who am I to close the book when there are so many chapters left to go?

This is obviously not the case for some people. The choice to end their story has left families devastated, uncountable lives shattered, forever wondering what went wrong, what they could have done differently.

The truth is we will never know what is going through a person’s mind when they make this choice. All we can do is try to learn from these tragedies, learn to look for the signs, in ourselves, our friends and our families.

We cannot be afraid to step out of our comfort zone and be there for each other. If you see a person who is obviously upset, stop and ask them if they are OK, or if they need your help. Maybe they will respond positively and open up to you. Maybe they will look at you as if you are crazy.

So what, be a little crazy. You might just save a life. You might just save a generation.