I keep thinking about Friday night. Leaving a hospital in tears because you’re so frustrated and you know it’s better to just walk away.
Speeding through the park on an icy road, so close to a flowing, freezing river. Your biggest fear. Coming to an intersection and something telling you, turn right, go to the bar.
Being greeted by Elliot and Nick. Good friends, solid people. Going after hours to another bar with them, laughing, and having a few beers.
The parking lot emptying out, just standing there talking with Elliot.
Conversation turns to depression.
That moment when you know someone can tell you hate everything around you. That way their demeanor changes. Desperation in your laugh, brushing it off along with the snow on your shoulders.
Why are you depressed?
Never said I was, just said I understand how it is that you feel.
Jaw shaking from the bitter cold and the mounting fear.
Sitting in their car, persistently dancing around the subject until finally you coarsely blurt it out.
Because I hate living, and I just want to die.
Sinking under the shattering heart of the person listening, looking at your shaking hands, and knowing their eyes are burning through you.
Justification, it is okay to tell them this, they’re drunk, they won’t remember in the morning.
Crying, laughing it off, sharing jokes, getting comfortable around them again. Letting your guard down.
If you were to kill yourself, how would you?
Fiddling with your keys in your hand, staring out the window at your truck, guard down, filter shut off, you blurt it out.
Car accident.
Sting of the metal keys being ripped from your hand.
Laughing, zipping up your coat and grabbing the key from your wallet.
Shaking hands, blurry eyes.
Hearing your wallet hit the drivers side door as he pulls it from you.
Kicking yourself in the ass for forgetting to replace the spare taped to your truck.
Sitting with your head in your lap as you’re being drove away from your truck.
You were seriously going to drive away and you want to die in a car accident. Do you honestly think I was going to let you drive away from me?
Yes.
Pacing back and forth down a hallway. Twenty steps from the garage door to the bedroom. Nineteen to the spare bedroom.
Telling them thank you, and goodnight. In response hearing, you won’t get any sleep tonight, will you?
Not much, just some, but in the morning, please, let’s act like this never happened, forget all of it.
