A quick warning before we jump in today, Stranger.

This episode deals with children and suicide.

Please take caution.

When you think of a 13-year-old girl, what do you think of?

Billy Elish or Sabrina Carpenter lyrics, beauty products from Sephora, bat mitzvahs, birthdays,

soccer games, swim meets, TikTok dance trends, crushes, homework, junk food, braces? What about crushing

depression? What about self-loathing? What about bullying? What about suicide? Welcome to strange and

unexplained with me, Daisy Egan. As the parent of an 11-year-old, few things are more terrifying than the

dangers of the gauntlet known as middle school, except, of course, for the untimely loss of a child.

I recently told my son there's a reason there are myriad books, movies, and stories

dedicated to the timeless trope, that is, middle school sucks.

It's because it does, full stop.

Goddess bless the teachers who choose this awkward, ungainly hormonal band of beautiful

weirdos. There is a special place in heaven for middle school teachers. You couldn't pay me to go back

to that time, and we sure barely pay teachers to.

Thank you. I remember middle school with its weird pubescent energies and kids who seemed so tiny and so young going to class alongside kids that seemed scarily close to being adults with mustaches and adult bra sizes. My boyfriend, Sean, who started calling me Dyke behind my

back when I cut my hair, and who is now the gayest man you could ever fathom existing. My group of friends,

unceremoniously dumping me without warning.

My only respite came when I could go home and the awfulness stopped. I have said before many

times I don't think I would have survived middle school at high school with a cell phone or social

media. Once I was away from school, I could pretend it just didn't exist.

But now, unless you strip your kids of all their devices, which you can't very well do,

...