That's the thing about walking past someone on the street, sitting next to them in class, scrolling past their smiling photo online. You see the shoes. Clean, worn, whatever. You don't see the blisters. You don't see the thousand steps they took at 2am pacing their room

 because their mind wouldn't let them sleep. You don't see how heavy each step got somewhere around month three of pretending they were fine.

We say "walk a mile in someone's shoes" like it's a nice idea for a poster. But most of us never actually try it. We look at the shoes. We assume the fit is fine because the laces are tied. We assume the person walking is okay because they're still walking.

September is Suicide Prevention Month, and if there's one thing worth saying loudly, it's this: you cannot tell whose shoes are rubbing them raw just by looking at them from the outside.

Think about the friend who always has a joke ready. The classmate who never misses an assignment. The sibling who seems like they have it together, who everyone calls "the strong one." Somewhere in a closet, or a drawer, or buried in a bag they carry every day, there might be a pair of shoes with soles worn thin from carrying weight nobody else can see. Grief. Pressure. A diagnosis. A breakup. A history. A silence they don't know how to break.

We don't ask people to take their shoes off and show us the damage. So we don't know it's there. And too often, by the time we find out, it's because the walking stopped.

That's what prevention actually means. Not waiting until someone collapses to notice they were limping. It means paying attention before the blisters turn into something you can't fix with a bandage. It means asking "how are you, really" and staying for the answer, even if it's uncomfortable. It means noticing when someone's steps get slower, quieter, more alone.

You will never fully walk in someone else's shoes. Nobody can. But you can walk next to them. You can ask what the road has looked like. You can be the person who doesn't just glance at the shoes and assume they fit fine.

If you're the one whose shoes are falling apart right now, hear this: you don't have to keep walking alone, and you don't have to wait until you can't take another step to ask for help. Reaching out isn't giving up. It's the bravest kind of walking there is.

This September, don't just look at people's shoes. Ask about the miles.

No one has to face mental health struggles alone, and support is just a call or text away.

You don't have to walk a mile in someone's shoes to make a difference, sometimes just walking beside them is enough. Show up every day with a smile on your face and compassion in your heart, ready to give your best. You never know whose life you might change simply by being present.