Reflection

Without going into too much sap and sadness and kleenex, yesterday marks the eighteenth, I hesitate to say, 'anniversary' of my taking a handful of pills to, um, chase the blues away.
I remember the room, smells, sounds (The Smiths, Strangeways, Goddamn awesome album, by the way) playing on the boom box on the dresser, my depressed state of mind and all of the stupidness of that afternoon's decision. After being rejected from the campus hospital ('Hey, we don't take suicide situations!'), an awkward stomach-pumping, hours of crying, inept hospital counseling, failing miserably at trying to explaining myself to my devastated mother, I never thought that I'd be talking about this on an open forum like this (I mean, this was before Al Gore invented the internet, for goodness sakes); but as I get older, I find that sharing your own difficult experiences makes you confront your own deficiencies, and maybe even help someone else feel less embarrassed by just coming out and saying, 'I've done dumb things, too; and I'm here for you if you need me.'

I have a friend who often says, 'It ain't all rainbows and unicorn farts.' That, my friends, is honest, eloquence defined.