She May Or May Not Approve Of This Post

I have a friend, my best friend, she’s been mentioned in a lot of my posts directly or indirectly and she’s my best friend, you know… the kind of friend that doesn’t judge your fascinations about serial killers or questions your inherent fear of the subway. She’s the only friend I have and I currently don’t want any more of them.

It’s no secret to me or her online followers that she’s suicidal and depressed. Her blog is scarily candid about the shit that goes through her head.

The first time she posted about her contemplating suicide, she told me not to read it. When she finally gave me permission to view her mysterious post, it was like a rug pulled beneath my feet. Here I thought she was just strange and the dark but hilarious jokes we shared were all fun and games. Nope, it was a way for her to share her reality and I hadn’t seen through that.

This universe that was thrust upon me was scary and uncertain. This person who is fearless and beautiful and so unique doesn’t really want to keep on living and I had no clue about it.

I called her and pretended to be cool about it.

Like… “Oh, hey… I just read your post. Is this true? Why are you rehearsing your suicide? Please call me whenever you feel like this!”

I was trying to be calm and adult about it. I had never really been in a situation quite like this. I had to google stuff and try not to sound like a cliche cunt while throwing inspirational words at her face, like keep on living, it’s worth it etc.

 

Truth is, I don’t know how she does it. I can’t imagine how it feels but it seems vulnerable and I’m sure she feels useless at times by accepting help. She was looking for a confidante to share her suicide with but in reality found someone who would stop her and force her to do something she never thought of doing, getting professional help.

It was never an option not to help her. If I could, I’d be even more involved but she doesn’t let me. She thinks she’s a terrible burden and that I shouldn’t blacken my soul with her worries. Too late for that, I say. I don’t know why I’m so determined to be there but it’s because I want to, not because I’m supposed to. Her existence means a lot to me… and a universe where she doesn’t exist is a doomed universe.

I noticed recently that all of my previous friends had never really complimented me on anything. Somehow, she’d notice things I was good at and brought them to my attention at times (with me of course incapable of accepting the kind words) and was actually interested in finding out my opinion about small things. For most people, these are trivial things but I’ve been unlucky with people in general. These tiny insignificant things matter.

She matters a lot.

 

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