Last week I got a phone call from a friend asking me if I would go with her to the hospital. As I quickly got ready to go and met her outside, she told me a friend of her family had overdosed on his medication. The doctors didn't think he'd make it through the night and she wanted to say her goodbyes.
Hearing that, I was stopped in my tracks, slapped upside my head, and I didn't hear a word she said after that. She had to come back to me and ask if I was okay. Too many thoughts went through my mind.
The reason it hit me hard (I didn't know him personally) is because I've often thought about it. I'll admit there was a time when I would wake up mad that I woke up at all. I didn't want to be here. I didn't care to be here and I was so tired of always hurting. I would often ask a friend to take me out in his field and put me down like a horse...put me out of my misery. He's always refused me though saying he'd miss me too much. My desire not to be here has wavered over the years. There are times I'm glad I'm still here and there are other times I'd be perfectly okay if I wasn't.