There have been times in my life where I didn't want to do it anymore.
Live, that is.
I've attempted suicide four or five times in my life, but never actually finished the job, as you can attest to, since you are reading this now.
At least once a month, my depression takes over. I lose interest in everything. Eating. Sleeping. Drinking. Sex. Work.
I've known 27 people that killed themselves. Think about that number for a minute. 27. Each one of them was alone when they did it.
I'm almost always alone. I could be in a crowd of people, and still feel like everyone keeps moving their chairs away from me. Because they do. I see it. Even without realizing it, or doing it on purpose, they move farther and farther away from me.
I go to the bar to sing karaoke, and sit next to some acquaintances of mine. We're all good bar friends, and have a good time together. Singing, drinking, cavorting. Next thing I know, they have excluded me from conversation without even trying. Their backs are turned to me.
Anyway, back to my point. A couple of years ago, I was in a very dark place. I didn't want to keep going, but I knew I had to. So, I posted a status on Facebook. It simply said that I was having a very bad time with my life, and I needed some help.
You can probably imagine the response I got from that post. Dozens of people commented on it. Essentially, they all said, "If you need anything, I'm right here." The problem was "here" was not where I was. I got a couple texts from other friends saying the same thing, but that was it. Nobody actually spoke to me, or tried to help at all.
Except for one. My friend Angie. We were kind of dating at the time, and by dating, I mean that we tended to hang out in the same bar, and occasionally have sex together. We were never very serious. She was a sweet girl, and we had fun.
15 minutes after I posted that status on Facebook, there was a knock at the door. It was Angie. She came inside, sat me down on the couch, handed me a beer, and proceeded to make me dinner. Steak, mashed potatoes and broccoli. My favorite. We talked about the Army, and my family, and what songs I was thinking about trying at karaoke next time we went. We shared some jokes. After we ate, we watched a couple movies together. I was surprised to find that I felt a thousand times better.
She never asked me what was wrong. She never tried to fix anything. She never explained why she came over.
She just.... showed up.
That's it.
And, it was more than enough.
That's all I really wanted. Someone to be there. I didn't want or need therapy. I didn't want someone to come hold me and let me cry on their shoulder. I didn't want to talk about what was wrong.
I just didn't want to be alone. That's all. Everyone else left me alone. Unless, of course, I was willing to make a trip to see them where ever the fuck they were, so it wouldn't inconvenience their schedule.
Angie did an amazing thing that night. She saved my life.
