Letter no. 41: A Suicide Note

 download (1)2 days ago, I was phoning to my friend Jackson. We were happy catching up. But just six hours ago, the wheel of fate paused spinning and he was caught downside lying physically broken, filled with blood on K9th Street. He had just flown down from the 28th floor to escape life, at least that’s what I thought. And all that’s left is a suicide note that moved me and kept me staring at my laptop for quite a while.

Dear Michael,

On the 23rd of August, just 2 days ago. I was talking to a dear friend Jackson whom I hadn’t spoken to for a while then. We were catching up about life and what’s going on with everything. There was so much difference in his voice, like he seemed disturbed. I had known him as a guy who wears the sweetest smile and who had embraced a positive life. He had a good life, a great career in advertising field, surrounded by beautiful friends, and had grown an independent life since we graduated from college. He was the proudest gay who had a fruitful perspective on living normally as the others. I had not spoken to him until that time and learned that he was engaged to his partner situated somewhere Canada. He was telling me about his partner named Josh, who’s working in a bank specializing in figures and how everything started and end up on an engagement. It was true love I knew and I was happy for him the whole time we were talking. It was a surprise call I didn’t know would lead to a premonition.

On the 24th of August, yesterday, he sent me a text message if he could meet me at the church by around 9am. I was worried. I asked if something was wrong and he just replied with a sad face. It just so happened I had an appointment meeting that time booked prior to his message so I texted him I wouldn’t be able to drop by but promised to free my sched on the afternoon. I never heard from him.

Six hours ago, I woke up feeling dizzy. I checked my phone and got a message from Jackson. “I sent you an email last night. If one of these days I’m gone, let Josh know I love him so much.” I hurriedly checked my inbox feeling nervous and tensed and I got a suicide note which he allowed me to publish. August 25, 2:00 AM he wrote:

“My friend,

Don’t consider this a suicide note. It is not. I call it a escape note. The only difference is that, I’m not coming back. This is a message I sent to special people whom I know would understand me. I don’t know what awaits me after doing this but I know it would totally break me free from thoughts. I have been depressed these past few weeks. I often heard people saying suicide is not the answer to your question, and that it’s never gonna help you mend, but I know it’s the end. No one knows what’s out there but maybe I’m just too pissed yet excited to know what’s really out there. Like what is the point of being good when you are surrounded by bad.

I have always thought that love is the greatest feeling and should rule the world. I had four of it, and it all ended the same way- painful, tragic, abusive. People say we need to be hurt to realize the real meaning of love and for us to be careful next time. Well I say I have invested enough and have understood so much to find out in the end that people just make promise by word and not by action. That all the words that have said are just to benefit the present time. In reality, when it comes to love, some people are just really selfish, some don’t care too much or at all, some pour it all up and some just give it all in. I had it all managed at times. I balanced everything.

He says I’m a great person, but guess what, he just turned me down. When he says I’m a great person, he means I deserve someone else. What feelings in the world could have been more painful than breaking an -already-broken heart? Why do people think selfishly. Doesn’t he realize that he is needed and that someone out there is busy supporting and taking the time to love him.

downloadHe’d say I deserve someone better, but the truth is, my heart never looks for any better when it’s contented with him. I have loved him in his lowest and highest points and I guess it’s just fit to say I have loved him as both by fate and by choice.

Love begins at attraction. Love begins at butterflies and colorful flowers we know that. That attraction grows. You see the good and the bad ones, the rest is all a choice. We all live by choice and I hate it when people make promise, build bridges and ruin afterwards just because they just don’t wanna walk on that bridge anymore. The crash is unbearable. When it’s grown bigger and hopes and plans are built, and it crashes, the casualty becomes bigger, and you were left mending alone and fixing those casualties, and then u see yourself back to square one. It’s a cycle and it’s tiring.

The hardest part of loving my friend is when you are talking to silence; that you’ve exhausted all the possible words you could say and you hear nothing; that you keep asking for a thought from him and you’d hear nothing. That you are left with scattered clues and ended up fuzzy. People say don’t overthink too much, but I say don’t underthink too less. It’s not overthinking, it’s expressing concern, that you are always there. People say give it some time and don’t judge. I never did judge, and my worry in giving it some time is that love might fade. People keep insisting the idea of trust, I have always trusted. In fact, I overtrust, but talking to silence isn’t working anymore.

He’d say, it’s never gonna work out because we were oceans apart, but I say, why have we started it in the first place? The answer: It’s because we once believed in the premise of love, that no matter how hard it is, there is always power of sacrifice, of suffering. It has always been a choice to believe. I don’t know what have gone wrong. It’s like he lit a flame, we enjoyed the fire, it conflagrated bigger and I was left killing the tragedy and fixing the casualty. I don’t know, he must have died with the ashes.

Friends like you would always be friends, but you will never feel what I feel ever. They’d say friends are meant to be there but I say, there’s always a digital divide. The truth is, we all have our own lives, and that we make sure it’s all fine before someone else’s lives are. That’s my mistake, I cared more for him rather than my own life because that’s what he taught me before. It’s selfless love.

I’ll be dead in a few.

Find me and my cold body somewhere along the pavements of K9th Street and I’ll see you sometime when your wheel stopped spinning. By the time you’re reading this, I might have flown and escaped.

Tell Josh I have flown, crossed the oceans and watching him.

Broken-free,
Jackson.

*******

I could barely breathe after reading his note. I was hoping it’s all a bad dream. But that’s the truth. That’s the truth. Depression can kill.

2 hours ago, I rushed my way to K9th Street to see Jackson. I drove my way to the end of the street as I don’t know his exact address. I saw nothing but a peaceful village filled with children playing on the street. I double checked the signs to make sure I’m on the right street, and yes I was on the right street. I didn’t wanna think it was a joke or something. Until I got another text message from an unknown number.

“Coco, this is Jackson’s mom. See me at the Capitol hospital room 855. Jackson tried to commit suicide on his room, luckily, the maintenance personnel had saved his life. I’ll explain when you get here.”

From then I knew he was safe. I drove my way to the hospital.

I am writing this letter while looking at his fainted face beside his bed.

God still wins even on darkest hours.

Dont wait for love, make it.

Lovelots,
Coco

  JACKSON 25, ONCE MENTIONED THAT HE IS COMPLETE HAVING JOSH IN HIS LIFE. HE IS NOW MENDING PHYSICALLY AND EMOTIONALLY IN AN INSTITUTION FOR DEPRESSED PEOPLE.

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Posted on August 25, 2014, in LETTERS 41-48 and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. Depressed people must not be left alone but some of them hide their depression very well.

  2. This was incredibly painful to read. I hope that things brighten (for all of you) soon.

    Love from a stranger –
    Sioux

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