Note: This article was originally written three weeks ago.

I never thought I’d be writing this, but it needs to be said, and I’m literally the only person to say it. As you may or may not know, Taylor Lehman, an East Noble alum and the person who got the Knightly Scroll up and running again back in 2013, just published an astounding article with the News Sun about his own personal brush with suicide. And that made me think about just how much I needed to write this piece. Not just for him and his benefit, but also so you and everyone else can see how your seemingly inconsequential life may be a lot more impactful than you previously believed. So let’s get it going, shall we?

My first day of high school freshman year was pretty horrible. For one, I knew I was growing up (which, for those who know me, you know how much I hate that). Second off, I was in a new school, which never brightens anyone’s mood. Third, I was now mixed with all these people I either didn’t know (since I went to St. John instead of ENMS) or had seemingly abandoned years before. And then, after all of this, they tell us that the freshman are going to start having to do something called mentors. After that first day though, life seemed to coast by. Until that first Thursday meeting.

I walked in to my AL on that Thursday, and I was told that I was not supposed to meet in there that day. As a freshman, today was my first day for mentors. I didn’t know much about “mentors,” but just based on its name, I knew that this was not going to be something I would enjoy. And it seemed I was right when I walked into the classroom and sat down in the back, away from all the kids who had grouped up as friends. The mentors were just standing in the front of the room. I sat with my head cast down, avoiding stares until the two in the front decided to start.

They introduced themselves as…I can’t seem to remember the girl, and I want to apologize to her greatly, but the other was Taylor Lehman. I remember them telling us stuff about themselves and getting the impression that Taylor was the kind of guy that I would see in movies about high school but not be able to relate to at all. He had amazing grades, helped mentor kids, was in sports, was always happy, and had started up the school’s newspaper again.

It was astounding. I admit now, I was super jealous. I knew I couldn’t ever get to the level where I could stand in front of a bunch of freshman and tell them all these great things about myself. I envied him. I wished I could do all those things, and because I couldn’t, I kind of resented him for a bit. But, slowly and surely, he became someone I looked up to, no matter how much I hated admitting it. I wanted to do something like him, and what seemed better than the newspaper? I mean, I had a few other reasons already pushing me forward, but he seemed to be the metaphorical straw that broke the metaphorical camel’s metaphorical back.

When I joined the Knightly Scroll the next year, he was gone, but I had friends in it with me, and they kept me with it. And then low and behold, he shows up at a meeting. I wanted to greet this guy who had pushed me to join the paper, whether he knew it or not, and when I did, he remembered me. I felt honored. He knew that I existed and, for some reason, that was really cool. I never talked to him much, because when you’re in the presence of someone you admire that much, it’s incredibly hard to do much since you’re afraid of messing up.

And then, during that meeting, he introduced himself, and told us he was going to college for journalism, and, for whatever reason, that made me realize that my dreams, aspirations and goals in life weren’t so crazy. Before, it seemed to me that any job focused on writing was neigh impossible to achieve, and so I had the impression that I shouldn’t even try to get such a job. Yet he showed me in that moment that it was completely possible, if I worked hard enough, to achieve a level where I could write comic books. I thought of him, at this point, as Superman. An amazing, infallible person that stood as a beacon of hope for anyone who needed it.

And then this week rolled around and I read his haunting, personal story about suicide, and I shook me. Apparently, Superman wasn’t as infallible as I had believed. This person who had effected my life so heavily, without his own knowledge, could’ve been gone. I thought I would be crushed. I mean, why wouldn’t I be? But suddenly, he changed in my eyes. He resembled Superman more to me now than he had before. Taylor, like Superman in the 90s “Death of Superman” storyline, had fallen to a low place but had gotten out of it even better than before. He’s an inspiration to me on a different caliber now than he was before. Now, instead of just someone who had his life together, he’s a man who has his life together, despite hardships throughout it. And I want to thank him for that.

I don’t really know a good place to end this, Taylor, but if you read it, and I know you will, I want to thank you from the deepest depths of my soul for showing me that the things I want to do in life aren’t impossible. Hard maybe, but if I truly want it, I can try hard enough to get it. And to anyone out there who has contemplated or is contemplating suicide, know that however “worthless” you try to convince yourself that your life is, you have inspired someone out there. Whether they’ve told you or not, someone looks up to you.

To someone, you’re Superman.