(*I would like to inform you all that I do not take the subject matter at hand lightly, but in this circumstance I am a bit cold and apathetic due to personal feelings, or lack thereof.)
Darkness. Four walls. Cold air. I lay on my bed in cold, darkness of my room. My face dimly illuminated by the screen of my phone. Suddenly, light overtakes my room as I’m passed a phone.
Tearful sobs and a deep sigh is heard as I put the phone to my ear.
The tearful confessions of a lonely man begin to pour out through the phone.
“I tried to kill myself last week, Athena. I might commit myself to the hospital to get help.”
“Because I can’t take the pain anymore. I have nothing left.” as he begins to tell me about his suicide attempts. He tells me he should have listened years ago, and now he finally understood. He cannot stand the betrayal in his life. His family. Me. His own son leaving to be with me and his having to let go. He has no job. His last two girlfriends left him.
“What’s wrong with me?”
I apathetically listen as I wonder why didn’t he just finish the job? Why is he telling me this now? I do not know what he expects of me. I do not know if he thinks he will get me to feel sorry for him.
He admits to wanting to commit himself to a professional institution that deals with mental illness and the like, because he finally wants to seek help. He cries and says he is lonely.
I finally speak.
“I’ve told you for many years before I left that you needed help. For so many years… You made me feel like I was the one who was sick. And I was. But you needed help, too, because there was so much more that you needed to deal with than me. Killing yourself would be selfish. I don’t care. I would not be upset if you killed yourself, but think of the kids. How upset would your daughter be if you killed yourself right before her 8th birthday? She would feel like it’s her fault. She would never be the same. Stop thinking of yourself for once. For ONCE think of your kids rather than trying to look for everyone to feel sorry for you. I don’t even like you, but that would not be fair to the kids. But now you know exactly how I felt all those years, trying to kill myself. “
The saddest part, and only because it feels slightly shameful, is that I really do not care that he felt this way. I was actually disappointed he wasn’t successful. I just wanted to say it’s too bad he didn’t succeed, but instead told him to think of his children. I chose to be the bigger person…
I allow myself to fall asleep soundly, no worries, in the cold, darkness of my room.
For what? He ran onto his page to seek pity and anger for his situation and encourage those to be angry with him and justify his anger. Nothing about suicide. Nothing about committing himself. Just stupidity to get the common folk emotional over his plight. He says he is moving away to those who do not know about his late night sob-fest.
Then another phone call. The next afternoon.
“I’m going to commit myself today. I won’t be calling for a while.”
Okay. That’s fine. Well, we’re on our way out. I don’t have time for this. Have someone call me if that happens.
That was the end of that. I do not feel an inch of sympathy. Please don’t bother me. I don’t care. Kill yourself. End your misery. I would have preferred it if you found peace within yourself, but it is not possible, so I encourage you to finish the job. I won’t miss you. The kids can remember you fondly before you do more to hurt them and disappoint them.
Even the worst of the worst deserve some sympathy, some help when they need it and cannot do it alone.
Here, I’ll help you. I’ll even hand you the rope.