Last night, a girl in my grade committed suicide. This is the second teen suicide in our city this year. The last one was two weeks ago, at the other high school.

Last time, it didn't affect me. She was just a girl. From the other side of the city. One I'd neither seen nor heard of beforehand. It was almost as if she'd been from the next town, the next state, somewhere entirely different.

This morning, I came into PE class to see three people crying. I thought it was just one of those days, and I was right - except these days come rarely and even so, they come too often. Our teacher read the announcement to us. We observed a moment of silence. But I didn't seem affected.

All day, various people were sad. The fall musical, which was supposed to be tonight, tomorrow, and Saturday night, was postponed because it includes suicide. All day, I saw people crying and hugging and I offered consolation. But it felt oddly distant. I didn't feel sad - well, I did. But I felt more of a chilly surprise.

I had known her in the way you know people you've been with for a few years, but moreover those whose friend groups have linked with yours at times. I had passed her in the hallways, I had seen her pictures on Facebook, I had talked to her sister a few times. I might have known her. But no longer.

It's only now, a while later, that it's sinking in. She's dead. She's gone. She took her own life. I will never see her again - not in the hallways, not at the lunch table, not with my friends. She cannot see how much love pours out towards her now, how much people miss her and grieve for her, how much people are aching for her.

I don't know why. It seems that no one does. But I don't think, even if I did know, that I'd understand completely.

And I remember now what it was that prevented me from doing the same thing, a few years ago. It was the thought of hurting others so deeply. It hurt me to see their pain, and I suppose that my empathy saved me. I only wish that this girl had had something like that - something that pulled her back.

I was not her close friend. I was not her family. I didn't know her well and perhaps I don't have so much of a right to be so sad. But here's the thing. I was talking to a friend of mine and asked if she was okay, and she said: "I'll be fine. It's just she's the first person I knew who died."

I was not her close friend. I was not her family. But I knew her, and I am sad. For a life that could have been lived.