OCTOBER 2, 2014 | OPINION | 07 editor in chief ALEX WHITE William’s death helps columnist evauluate priorities in life ILLUSTRATION BY CATHY GRIFFITH ‘Avada Kedavra’ Columnist looks beyond magic co editor CLARA SHINE The music echoed through the halls, soft and eerie, almost drowned out by the chattering of the crowd. A full orchestra swelled around us, tugging and welcoming us into the land of my childhood. It’s always been a wonderful land, full of magic and excitement and adventure, a world of witchcraft and a place where love conquers all. The land of Harry Potter. For years, it was all fiction, but Universal brought my childhood to life. Standing in line is a small price to pay for that kind of realism. They’ve created a world, a home for nerds like me who hold true to the power and magic of fiction. One day, though, I stepped behind the magic. My three friends and I visited for one of their birthdays to drink Butterbeer and play in the land of imagination. We wandered through the halls with the throngs all around us, chattering loudly with the iconic music filling our hearts. We only fell silent when the characters appeared--Harry, Ron, and Hermione beckoning us on to a game of Quidditch. One last corridor of stone before loading. We were so close, ready for the thrill and excitement of the four-minute ride. I could see the Sorting Hat talking in the distance, just barely catching the words, “My safety lesson’s done.We hope you live to tell the tale, and most of all, have fun!” Then, a door opened. A worker called for a group of four, and we went. The worker elf ushered us through to the beyond--metal. A metal hallway, a metal elevator, another metal hallway, and yet another metal elevator only this one brought us back down. After finishing repairs on a cart, workers wanted riders for its reintroduction into the sweeping cycle. I lead the boys, being ushered onto the far seat of the cart. Soft black leather engulfed us, surrounded by yellow plastic. We sat there for several minutes, while staff made final checks on the cart, and then we started moving. We barely moved 20 feet before we stopped. Only my seat hung over the edge, ready to descend down into the thrilling abyss. But our cart was not the only one to stop. The main loading dock carts stopped as well, leaving passengers suspended in place. After several minutes, the lights came on. A voice came over the intercom, “We are experiencing technical difficulties.” From my slightly downward tilted position, I saw the underworld of the land. Everything was cement. A solid cement floor with a long black metal track supporting the carts. I could see the track running under the main loading dock. Eventually, after several minutes of feet-kicking boredom, the ride started up again. The cheering echoed through the room, while my friends and I remained in place. They pulled the cart back, telling us that it needed more work, and to tell the workers when we got back in line to jump us to the front. We were left to wander through the metal halls the way we came back alone, unaided by workers, and after a little bickering we got back to the line where we stepped back in right where we left it. While I love the world with my whole heart, this experience changed the magic for me. It became clear in my mind that what seems to be magical is really all just a technological illusion. At age 63, comedian Robin Williams took his own life. Although Williams battled depression for many years before, the tragic loss still came as a shock to his loved ones, and the entertainment community. Williams sought treatment in 2006 for drug and alcohol addiction; he also battled substance abuse early on in his career. In the years past, the spotlight shined on William’s drug and alcohol abuse, and not as much on his depression and diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease. According to the World Health Organization, major depressive disorder is the leading cause of disability in the U.S. for ages 15-44 and 50% of people diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease also experience depression. The sudden passing and the revealation of his depression makes one wonder who else we overlook? What else could’ve been going on that no one noticed? Friends I’ve had throughout high school have sought help for reasons such as anxiety and depression. I am grateful that they don’t have to bear this alone. When they ask for my help, I didn’t know how to deal with it effectively, and neither did they. I’ve had friends who would frequently skip class to be alone in a bathroom stall. Or skip school multiple days a week, preferring to be in a dark bedroom sleeping rather than interacting with others. I also found these friends adapting strange sleeping patterns, finally falling asleep around three a.m. William’s death also made me wonder who else around me isn’t reaching out to get the help they need. Friends should take initiative and make an effort to notice the small things that can possibly signal depression. Some examples include constant negativity, anger/irritability, and loss of confidence in oneself. Just the day before his death, Williams made an appearance at a local Bay Area art gallery along with artist Mark Jaeger. He seemed joyful, which is strange to think that someone can hide their true feelings and darkest thoughts from the rest of the world, and their loved ones. I wonder who else could be hiding suicidal thoughts in my life and who else is too afraid or hesitant to ask for help. It scares me to think that maybe I won’t notice someone who is troubled. It scares me to think that with certain people, I’ll never know what is truly running through their minds. It scares me to think that so many people may need help.