My Friend of Misery
In our world, there are those of us who tend to not live life for the precious few moments that it is.
These people have a mindset that most people will never grasp. Some believe them insane. Others, call them cowards. Some would say they are brave beyond reason. And certain religions view it as a sin. The mind of the suicidal will forever evade the living. Whether it be the notion of viewing your life as fully lived, and in its entirety complete; or the thought that you have nothing left to live for. Severe depression, to the point of not wanting the suffering to continue on is also a valid reason that people identify suicide with. Some people commit suicide under the idea of sacrifice, and give their life to defend another; a valiant and selfless act of the priceless nature of the human mentality.
All of these plus hundreds I haven’t named are the ideas behind what our world believes would be considered the catalyst for the taking of one’s own life. I think, we may never know unless we ourselves become one of this select minority. I had a friend once, who I will call “Tim” out of the respect for his privacy. Tim was one of the absolute bravest, and most thoughtful people I knew. He gave generously to others, and always wanted to become a hero in any situation. When you had a trivially pointless day and wanted to share how bad it was, Tim was there to comfort you no matter how you had treated him in the past. As if with a blanket of sincere empathy, he always could understand with his own anecdotes and morally appropriate stories that he shared, and came to see your problem in the same fashion you did. He was always on your side, and when you needed the guidance necessary would give it to you in a friendly, and easy to grasp manner that you could take as a lesson leaving the bad day. When Tim had a bad day, you never knew about it. He was quiet, and always wielded a grin that had the power to shy anyone else’s negative nature. Tim was kind to ladies, and more often than many people would go out of his way to please his female even if she was being an unreasonable bitch, because he knew that her happiness and prosperity came first. His parents were cruel though, and he chose to escape from his house for much of the day because of their nature to take their problems out on him for their manic depression, and infidelity issues. He never seemed to let this slow him down though, or allow him to think less of his parents. He always showed them respect, and even though my list of people I would consider heroes seems short, Tim never moved off that list. He is more of a human being in death, than I could ever aspire to be in life.
One night in 2007, I was online with my gaming clan when I received a call from a friend of mine, who was closer to Tim at the time. She was hysterical, and couldn’t come to enunciate the words properly to let me know what was wrong. I asked her to calm down, and tell me what happened so that I could help. I figured her boyfriend had dumped her or something vain like that, as she liked to do once a week. I now wish more than anything, that it could have been the case that night.
Tim’s girlfriend got a call from him earlier in the evening, informing her over the phone of why he was sorry for things that weren’t even his fault, as we all knew was true. He continuously reassured her that he didn’t deserve her, then said he loved her and asked if she could meet him at a park near our school. She said okay, wondering why he sounded so urgent to talk to her then. As she drove up to the park, she found his vehicle easily, being the only one in the lot. She could see his outline sitting in the driver’s side, and she got out of her car to approach the window. As she did, she noticed a dirty spot on the window, and Tim’s motionless form. She knocked on the window, but no response. She pulled open the door, to see if he had fallen asleep waiting for her. As the cabin light in the truck came on, she was met by the nightmare. Tim sat in his seat, with his Remington 870 shotgun between his legs, now fallen onto his inner thigh. His faceless body now rested in the driver’s seat; his fate painfully evident. Tim took his own life at the age of 18. My rational thought was brought to a bitter halt, by the realization that I would never speak to my friend again.
This brings me to my final thought, as it is painful to recall this memory for all the reasons that anyone could call sensible. Why does the human mind turn to the end of one’s own existence? Tim was not a coward; quite honestly he was one of the boldest people I’ve ever known and never backed down when he had to do the right thing. He never hated life from what I could tell. I never saw a moment where he ever considered that maybe he had nothing left to live for. His cheerful disposition was quite possibly the only glimmer of humility and moral understanding that spawned from my high school in the past decade, and he took his own life for reasons unknown to anyone (that we know of). Tim was also an atheist, and I know that he could not have “gone to meet his maker” out of any such sense of comfort, because like me he thought that the idea of god as a concept was invalid, and his existence was created as a control in primitive civilizations. So what brought him to pull the trigger? I may never know.
I’m sure many people have known a “Tim” of their own, and have been just as confused as I am as to the mind-boggling reality surrounding the mentality of those who commit suicide. I just hope that one day I, as well as many others come to comprehend later in life why anyone would take such a step knowing full well of the gravity of what their actions will cause for those that did care, and value their existence on this planet. Tim, if there’s an afterlife, and if there’s a sentient being watching us (which he scoffed at), do me a favor and hit that cock-sucker in the face for me. I got the shortest straw so far, and it’s all their fault!