Looking back on all this, it seems rather unnecessary that it even happened. Although I suppose it would’ve happened sooner or later anyway. I guess you’d like to know what I’m talking about, so here goes.

On a Sunday in last September, I got news that my close friend and long time crush was moving away, out of my life forever, or at least a long time. Nobody really knew it, but I had a deep love for her for a long time. Sure, there were obvious signs of a crush, but it was presumed to be surface level like everything else about me. For years I watched her go from jerk boyfriend to jerk boyfriend, only to ever pass me by. We were friends at least. We had a similar sense of humor, a shared love for anime and many other things, and she was one of the friendliest people I’ve ever met. It’s what made me fall for her. But sadly, she never felt the same. This was a harsh reality check to the fantasy I was thinking about for years.

So I didn’t exactly take the news lightly. I cried, for a long time. After I picked myself up, I wrote her a letter that was basically a more detailed version of the above. I debated whether or not to give it to her, but eventually decided I’d like her to know.

The next few weeks were sad, to say the least. I spent every day in a blur of depression and regret. I can’t even remember most of them, perhaps they were suppressed. But I do remember that I talked to her a lot about my inner torment over text. I know it’s odd to go to the person who broke your heart about your broken heart, but I didn’t feel like I could trust anyone else. While she wasn’t one for giving advice, she took in my deranged ramblings for hours and consoled me, which helped me for a while at least.

I thought it was just the typical 5 stages of grief and that I would get over it and feel better soon enough. I was half right. She left and I finally reached acceptance of her absence. But, still trapped in darkness that never wavered. I lost interest in all the things that once made me happy. I began to question my purpose, my reason for living, and could never find anything. So I welcomed the darkness, let it take over. Doing anything at all felt forced, so I didn’t do anything. I just laid in my bed, listened to music, and cried. Some days were a tad better than others, but mostly it was just pain. I stopped talking to anyone but my dearest friends, and my family life crumbled to basically nothing but fights. I was grounded almost the entire time, but it honestly made no difference to me. I wouldn’t have done anything anyway.

All this reached a culmination last December, when I finally decided I had enough. If I couldn’t feel happiness, and happiness is what makes life good, then why live at all? There was no end in sight to this suffering, and it had already lasted for so long. I felt like a burden on all I cared about, and to myself. So, I began plans for the end of me.

It was a simple plan. Wait until a day nobody was home, write a quick note, and say goodbye. But before I went I had to do one more thing: say some final words to those who helped me survive myself this long, my best friends. I had managed to get all of them aside at some point throughout the day except one. I gave her a note at some point because I could never find a private moment with her.

I would’ve succeeded, I believe, if I could’ve kept my composure for about 30 minutes longer. The day is very clear to me. I was sitting through 8th period on what I believed to be my last day ever at school, for my demise was scheduled for that weekend. Thinking about my plans, I actually had a cold sense of peace going into it. Until I looked over at a good friend of mine, and realized this was probably the last time we would meet, and the same for all the others I held dear. This was the note friend, so there was a good chance she may not even see it until after I was gone. I could handle it no longer. Tears flowed down my face and sobs were heard for a good few minutes. It occurred to my friend to read the note I gave her earlier, and she showed it to the teacher. Although there was resentment towards her at the time, retrospectively this solitary act of responsibility saved my life. She and my teacher came to comfort me, and calls were made to my parents despite my best protests.
After that day, I backed off a bit from this suicidal streak. But I still felt rather hollow all the time. Until a miracle happened. My best friends’ sister had the phone number of an old girlfriend of mine, who now lives pretty far away, and on a whim gave it to me. I debated for hours whether or not to text her, and finally decided to do it out of boredom. We got to talking, and I had enough fun with it that I decided to go back to her the next day. And the next day. And the next day. Over the next month I fell in love with her. I confessed this to her, and to my surprise she did the same. I’ve never been happier since that day. I love this girl with all my heart, and despite the physical distance between us she’s more emotionally close to me than anyone else ever has been or will be. She single-handedly eradicated all of my sadness, and if what she’s told me is true, then she will always keep it away.

Now I’m on a better track. I picked up some hobbies, made some new friends, and got a therapist to help me sort myself out. In the end this whole experience, while bad, has made me a more emotionally deep person. The future that almost never existed looks brighter than ever. Was anything learned from it? Well, I learned that there’s always another way than suicide, and that love will solve just about anything. I also learned that true friends will always be there for you. Guess I already knew these things, but didn’t “know” them, if that makes sense. I hope to learn much more throughout my life, a life worth living after all.