Went to the waterfront. It was evening. The sun was low in the sky and bright. An orange glow over the grass and the few dozen people walking the concrete sidewalks or sitting under the trees. All together, content in the warmth.
Warmth of the sun.
Warmth of the people near them.
Warmth of the moment.
Black jeans, white shirt, messenger bag hanging loose across my shoulder full of notebooks and pens and a water bottle of booze. Dark and large sunglasses. The fucking stone in my chest. The tightness in my skull. I walked among them, through them. They couldn't see my eyes, but I watched closely all of their small movements. Their smiles. Their gazes. I could read their hearts and I walked through them.
I was out of the house. I was in the sun. I was walking and this was what worked. What you said worked. So I was.
I wanted to sit on my bench but it was taken. I went toward another near the water but it was taken. And the next. I kept walking. Down the path, away from the waterfront, but along the water. Near the tall grass and the abandoned buildings. I could smell the water. The grass. The blanket of ivy covering a wall I had admired recently. The sun shone over the tree tops and struggled through my sunglasses but I appreciated it being there. I appreciated all of it. I kept walking.
Near a parking garage there is a bench. It isn't very private, but it is isolated and it is near the water. So I walked there.
Sat down, set my bag down. Opened my phone. Nothing. Opened my water bottle and wept. Out of nowhere. A rush. A cacophony of everything I had put away in the last week and a half. All back. All at the surface. All out.
Couldn't catch my breath. Counted my fingers. 1. 2. 3. 4. 4. 3. 2. 1. Inhale, 1. 2. 3. 4. Exhale, 4. 3. 2. 1.
My breathing slowed mostly, in jumps and starts. My eyes burned and the pressure in my skull was building more and more.
The image in my brain. The roles. The character. The futility. What point was there to any of it?
I thought of you all. I stared out at the sun reflecting bright off of the water and I thought of you all. The only reason I could think of, and even then, it wasn't a strong reason. Pain fades. People become memories. You process and move on. Made a hell of a lot more sense than sticking around. Continuously hurting you all. Haunting your lives. Letting you move past me was the right move. The kind move.
The water rippled and the breeze swayed the tall grass and the air was a perfect temperature.
There are beautiful moments in the future. I know that. But how few. Most of our lives we struggle. We suffer. We say "just gotta make it to..." and for what? A few hours of beauty somewhere down the line? I've had beautiful moments. Beautiful moments with you all. Beautiful moments with strangers. Beautiful moments alone. That's enough for me. The struggle is no longer worth the wait.
I was choking silently, staring out at the beautiful sun. The beautiful water. The beautiful trees. Tears cool and sliding quickly down my face.
What am I waiting for?
An image of the Wellbutrin in my medicine cabinet. An image of the rope I used to carry around. An image of the gun I was considering buying, upside down and cold in my mouth.
Could. Right here. This sunset.
I choked again.
I knew this moment. I knew it was a lie. I knew what was happening to me. I messaged Elle.
"Are you free"
A moment.
"I am. What's up?"
"I just want to talk."
A moment.
"Okay. I'll call you in five."
The ripples in the water. Smooth and gentle, organized mathematically perfect. Existing, changing, disappearing. I exist. I change. I disappear.
My phone rings.
"Hey. What's up?" she asks.
It takes me a moment. I can't breathe again. "I can't think of a reason not to,"
A moment.
"There are a million reasons not too. You know that."
"Name one. Say one. Tell me one reason not to."
"There are so many people that love you. Please think about them. What it would do to them."
"They'll heal. They'll move past it. People fade."
"No, James. You know that isn't true. People don't recover from that. They might put it away, they might stop crying, but they don't recover. It would change peoples lives, and just so I'm clear, for the worst. People need you here James."
"I've spent my whole life hurting people. Disappointing them. Myself. Letting them down. Constantly. If I stay, I'll just keep fucking doing it. I'll just keep fucking hurting people. If I do it though, it's just one more time, and then never again."
"James. Listen to me. It would destroy me. I would never recover. I'm telling you that. It would ruin my life. It would ruin your families lives. You would do irreperable damage to us all. Your brain is lying to you. You know that. That's why you reached out to me."
The sun was just touching the trees now. I thought that for a moment it felt warmer. I closed my eyes and tried to feel all of the warmth I could take in. Hear every sound around me. Breathe the air in as deep as I could.
"I'm trying. I'm trying to do everything right."
"I know you are. Again, that's why you reached out."
"I'm on my fucking medication. I'm out of the house. I'm watching a sunset. I'm writing about it all. I'm trying."
"You're doing great."
"It isn't working."
"You're still here. You're on the phone with me. It's working. It might not feel like it, but it is. You are making progress. You're going to move through this, James. Just like you always have."
I swallowed whatever was coming next. It didn't matter. There was nothing I could say that would make her agree. There was nothing she could say that would change my mind. We spoke for another fifteen minutes or so. Mostly in circles, but enough to slow me down. At one point, I told her I was going to only keep a weeks worth of meds in my house and have someone else hold on to the rest until I needed them. She thought it was a good move. She pointed out that that meant I didn't actually want to do it. If I did, I wouldn't be coming up with safety plans. She was right. It was true and it washed over me.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fuck up your night," I said.
"You didn't fuck anything up. I'm glad you called. You did the right thing. I'm proud of you."
"Elle, I'm really in trouble."
"It's going to be okay. You are going to be okay. I promise you."
I had finished my water bottle. I screwed the top back on. Put it away in my bag. My breathing had slowed and I had a headache
"I'm going to walk back to the car," I said. "I think I should go home."
"Talk to people, James. Reach out to people. You can't sit in your apartment everyday. It's no wonder you're feeling like this. Please. Talk to people. Go out. See the people that love you."
"I will."
"Do you promise?"
"Yeah."
I said goodbye to Elle. Put my phone in my pocket. Walked back down the path toward the waterfront. Toward the car.
I gazed at every tree on the way back. Stopped and watched the clouds hang motionless in the sky. Tried again to read the hearts of the people on the grass. Tried to see the beauty.
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