Your attempted suicide still haunts me
After a year and a half of worrying, there you stood. Black eyes, no coat, belligerent and manic. You were crossing the street at the junction I passed everyday talking quickly. You had that familiar unstable smile you’d wear when you were replying to the voice in your head. What was it telling you this time? Are those yesterdays black eyes? Where are you going?
Before turning my car around, I thought Is this a test? As if giving into the impulse to help you was failing all the work I have done so far. No, I talked back, he needs help. I turned my car around and headed towards the street you were walking down. I saw your shoulders first, perfectly parallel with the ground, then those same old jeans, and dress shoes. Not proper footwear for snow.
My car pulled up beside you, but your gaze was locked ahead. I lightly pressed my horn to grab your attention, and as your eyes met mine they didn’t change like eyes do when you see someone you know. I rolled down my window and called your name once, and then again. You turned your head sharply, and your face was suddenly very different. It wasn’t you at all. The stranger I now saw continued on his way and I sat there in disbelief, heart pounding.
