I just shrug. He sits in silence, which is unnerving. Over the past weeks all it has been is me, sitting in silence and others yelling and chastising and berating me. Why did I do this? Why wasn’t I this way? How could I do this to them?  - that is the one that bothered me the most, the one that made me want to lash out. How could I do this to them? Really? This is all about you I’m sure. I decided to end my life out of spite against you. I’ve got that much bloody time in my life that I plot ways to hurt you. What kind of person thinks of that question? I just wanted to scream what about me? What about what I’ve been missing for so many years?  

And yet, here sits a man who wants to know about me and the  whys and the hows and I can’t even answer him. Because I can’t share this part of me anymore and because I don’t know what to say.  I have no answer for him. I never had one for any body. I have no good reason for what I did and how I feel. It just exists. How can I tell him that? What’ll happen if I tell him that? 

I raise my head to look at a photo on the wall. One of those terrible posters from the ‘60s with the cat hanging off the branch and the oh-so-cheery inspirational saying. I snort in disgust. Dr. Robinson says to me “not a big fan of the kitty posters, are you?” 

I take the bait, of course. I can’t turn down an argument, ever. 

“of course not. How can a photo of a cat in distress bring joy to anyone? Just another sign of the decline of western society. We’re all going to hell in a hand-basket anyway. There is no hope left in the world. I guess that might be a reason to have  these posters up. Life sucks, so let’s just make it worse with cheesy-ass posters of kittens with lame sayings on them that don’t do any good for anyone. ” 

“so, you feel as though the world is on a path of destruction? That all hope is abandoned and lost?” 

“Of course I do. Have you looked at the headlines on any given day? People are terrible and cruel to each other. No one is nice any more. Not that I think they ever were. Nostalgia is a terrible thing and it changes how people look at the past. We all think it was better back then. I don’t think it is. 50 years from now we will bemoan the state of society and all say ‘remember when things were better’.  

Look, we could talk about the decline and fall of human civilization until the cows come home. People have been wailing and gnashing their teeth over it for centuries. The apocalypse is always just around the corner.  

You want to know why I am here; I tried to kill myself and got caught. Wasn’t the first time I tried to punch my own ticket wither; just the first time I got caught. I should have locked  the door. I’m sure some people thought I did that on purpose, as a cry of help, but I just forgot. I only wanted relief from all of this.  

What’s wrong with taking my life? It’s mine. People are so cavalier with their lives and other people’s. why should me taking control over my own life – true control- matter to people? And on that note, why do people give a shit only after I got caught? Why didn’t they before, when I needed it?” 

Here lies the centre of my grief; that no on had been there until it was almost too late, until I’d almost succeeded in the most dire of actions. To part of me that sounded so melodramatic and I could have slapped myself for such saccrine, self-serving crap. But part of me wondered too about the motivation for the people who made that call.  Did they do it because they cared? Probably not. I’m sure it was so they could lord it over others that they saved a life and walk around, chest puffed up. What a load of crap. Why don’t people help for the sake of helping and not for the fucking social gold star? 

The tears have started again. I had not shed a single tear since the paramedics burst in the bathroom door. Once again, it had become an uncontrollable torrent of tears and grief. One I could not hold back by any means.  

I sat in the chair and sobbed. I cried for me and all that I have lost, all that I didn’t have. I wanted just for the earth to open and let me sink into the depths where no one could find me. Where all there is is silence. I just want the pain to stop.

I don’t care how it happens. Just make it stop.  I didn’t realize until I saw the look on Dr. Robinson’s face that I had screamed the last part. I sat in the chair, shaking, wishing I could stop. Wishing I was asleep – at least that was better than sitting here.  

Dr. Robinson looked at me with such tenderness and compassion that I didn’t’ know what to do about it. How come he cared? He doesn’t know who I am.