I used to think (and maybe I still do) that cancer only plagues those who had an immense capacity for love and empathy.  Cancer must have a heart of stone, or at least be a pond in a larger game of social darwinism.  A girl I knew in middle school one day stopped coming to class.  Chemo, was keeping her from us.  But I never considered that death was a part of this game; Maya was only 12 years old.  Two months later, I find myself sitting in the Buddhist temple off of Highway 71--the last to leave her funeral.  On the alter a photograph of a beautiful girl--her long blonde hair enshrining her deep brown eyes--was surrounded with sunflowers.  The top of the temple let in natural sunlight, which flooded the room and danced from corner to corner.  I am no spiritual guru (I identify as agnostic), but I simply couldn't help but notice just how full of light and energy the room was--and how full the anecdotes people shared about Maya's life were oddly uplifting and full of life.  Why did this budding beauty, this sunflower, this incredible little Buddha have to be taken--and after only twelve years?  This reminded me of the "What Would Willie Want" foundation established to honor a young adult, who, like Maya, brought life and light into the world--whether through music, a "positive attitude", or, at the risk of sounding cliched, through love.  Whe I read the line that follows, I thougt I had experienced a deja vu:  'He had a fun, caring and passionate nature as well as a love for helping otthers in any possible way.' (160) Maya was no different. This existential and enraging reality of life and death, and the unfairness and randomness (despite what I once thought) of it all, makes an idea like suicide not so distant or foreign.  The media and our popular culture have often romanticized suicidal behavior--protrayed (however deceptively) through emo (emotional) trends.  But such a superficial analysis of this trend begs some degree of understanding the question of why suicide has grown to be such a leading cause of death and also a means of relief.  While it did not shock me to learn that "suicide is the second leading cause of death for college students" (154), the statistics are nothing short of horrifying.  It reminds me of Buffalo Springfield's well-known--and well sung--anti-war song of the 60s, "For What It's Worth":  "There's something happening here...what it is ain't exacly clear..." And maybe if we all wakr up our "sleepy" brains, decrease our stress, and just "be positive" then we might reverse these figures? (175) And while I did not wish to end on a solemn note, perhaps we can all to some degree identify with the feeling that living in a world where corporations can buy your voice and politicians can recreate reality can seem like an utterly ridiculous and pointless feat.