A Painful Experience of Being Human

I don’t want to live anymore, he said and shifted on the floor where he was sitting when he told me. It looked uncomfortable to me. He stared at me, his eyes dead.

A thousand thoughts were racing through my head, none of them helpful.

What am I going to do?

* * *

Fast-forward to a week later. I jumped out of the car before it had even come to a stop.

I ran to the entrance of the hospital where I approached someone dressed in a uniform and asked them whether they had found him and whether he was alive. The man answered Yes to both questions.

I collapsed in front of the building.

* * *

Three months later nothing had changed. He still didn’t want to live. I woke up one morning to a missed call and two texts.

The first one: I’m bleeding. I’m dying.

The second one: I stopped it, don’t worry.

The missed call was from the police who had found him with his arms bleeding trapped in a damaged car in the middle of a tunnel. They told me when I called back.

* * *

Then another text, later that day: I’m in love with you. I tried to kill myself because I knew you didn’t want me, I was hurt. I’d be so happy if I could be in a relationship with you.

Years later, he’s still alive. I wonder whether he’s better now because he cannot see me anymore. I wish he will never meet anyone again who makes him want to end his life.

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Previously published on “Hello, Love”, a Medium publication.

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