I
touched a
suicidal person today.
I was actually having a good day, seeing all the colors around me, instead of just the dull gray monotone of my normal life. Happy. Hmm, I really like the taste of that word, rolling around in my mouth. So unfamiliar, but always welcome.
I walked into the building, still warm from the sun, when I realized I had just stepped into the mental version of a swamp. Dark water, bitterness, and a slow sinking/sucking feeling under your feet.
I already knew what it was. It was a personality so lost in its pain that it felt powerless to do anything, merely awaiting its doom. (This 'doom' might have been as insignificant as a paper that had to be turned in within a few hours. It's amazing how the human imagination can turn such tiny things into looming monsters). Of course I recognized the feelings. I felt the same way when I was suicidal.
I looked around, and toward the center of the pond, already sinking in it, was a girl. The was sitting on a small wooden box, staring at nothing. Or at herself. Or maybe she thought the two are the same.
I had no idea what to do. Some courses of action sprang into my head, from hugging her, to giving her some words of encouragment. Ever see Babylon 5? I wanted to tell her It can't be that bad. I thought it would be fitting.
But I didn't.
Why? I can rationalize: She would've clammed up, just like I used to. She'd put on a happy face, and tell me everything is just fine.
Perhaps I can plead shyness?
But I keep thinking back to that girl, all alone in her head. I think I simply ran away. I don't know how far I am from returning to that state, and I don't want to find out.