Surreal experience, topic one

i have honestly never been this affected by observing a mall patron. i had one of the most eye-opening experiences of my life today, and just think, it happened while i was at work.
i was just waiting for my shift to be over today, watching people walk by as i normally do to pass the time. a woman caught my eye when she began shrieking into her cell phone. she became completely hysterical within seconds... it was perfectly clear that something terrible, completely horrible, had happened in her personal world. i heard her repeat, "no... no... no..." and then she became even more upset (if that word can even come close to describing this emotion). she began croaking into her phone... "where is he? where is he? no... no... how? this isn't real... no..."
the next thing i saw nearly broke my heart. her daughter pried the cell phone from her mother's shaking hands and yelled into the phone for an explanation. her face nearly told me everything: "uncle mike? what? no... no..." then she began to sob nearly as hysterically as her mother. this girl's friend attempted to console her; apparently she had overheard at least one of the conversations.
these women sank to the floor, shaking and holding each other for strength, if not for sanity, completely oblivious to the mall around them and the world that will never stop for one death. to watch someone as they learn of the death of a loved one is a moving experience, particularly if you have never lost someone close to you. it presents countless questions, many without concrete answers. i will hit on a few of these issues momentarily; my primary topic is rather morbid in nature. allow me to explain.
i could not simply sit by and watch these women sob. i had to help somehow, even if it would be in the smallest way. i grabbed a handful of napkins and a bottled water and crossed the hall. i handed my consolation to the daughter, and as i walked away, i heard what hit me the hardest: the deceased had committed suicide. this is a very personal topic for me, and it made watching the grievers even more difficult to bear.
see, suicide isn't just this thing people do. it isn't just a state of mind or a lack thereof. it isn't just a way out. unless you've sat there with thirty pills in your mouth, or a needle and razor in your shaking, bloodied hands, or that tempting loaded gun next to you on that nightstand, you will honestly never fully understand. i hope you never will. i'm just trying to make sense of things to myself.
psychologically speaking, my attempts at ending my existence can not be classified as suicidal gestures; they are, in fact, parasuicidal gestures. these acts are by nature not intended to kill oneself, but actually draw attention to the fact that suicide is being considered--heavily so. did i realize as a twelve year-old that taking twelve tylenol and eight prozac wouldn't kill me? absolutely not... i thought for sure it would. did i realize at seventeen that sixteen asprin, eight amytriptilene, seven motrin, and four vicodin would only upset my stomach and make me high as fuck for three days? no way. did i realize, at my last attempt, that i needed to keep my wrists underwater to bleed out? of course not. i still have the scars--external and internal--to prove that i've been there. am i proud? fuck no. but do i know what this is about? you bet your condescending ass i do.
how do you think it feels to fuck up your own death? how to you think it feels to wake up the next day, and realize that you're such a failure that you can't even succeed at killing yourself? it's one of the worse feelings in the world. you realize that everything everyone ever said about you is true... you're a fat, bitchy, piece of shit that will never be loved or have any friends. you will never make anything of yourself, be happy, or be able to measure up to anyone's standards. you are genuinely fucking stupid. that is what you are. that is what you are because everything is true when you realize that you failed.
don't get me wrong: i know that i have diagnosable psychological conditions. are they "under control?" sure, let's go with that. does everyone who considers suicide? probably not. completely psychologically healthy individuals sometimes commit/attempt suicide. if you have beef with this point, please let me know. i've got the stats.
because of my personal connection with suicide, the aforementioned situation hit me hard. sure, i had considered how various individuals would react if i had succeeded in killing myself, but it had never really hit me hard enough to change my mind. it was something that i pushed to the side, something that i completely ignored. simple enough.
watching these women go through losing someone, much less to suicide, was like having your insides go through the spin cycle on a washing machine. i've never lost anyone close to me before, and i have no idea how i would react. period. i would probably shut down for a while... probably for a long while if it was brian, my mom, or one of my brothers. brian is the only constant thing i have right now, and i know i'd never be the same if i lost him, no matter what the cause. my mom may be a factor in how fucked up i am, but she was all i had for eight years. i know her better than i know myself. either one of the boys... i don't even want to think. i can't fathom losing any of the people in my life, but losing these individuals might break me.
i know that if i had actually succeeded in ending my life, it would have broken my mother. i realized that today as i watched as the unknown woman lose her brother. i know it probably would have broken teachers, students, and coworkers. realizing what i have tonight, i know that i would break if even if a casual acquaintance took their own life.
i can't express how terrible i feel for the unknown mall patron and her family. i don't know the feelings, the emotions... i can't even imagine the pain they feel. i can only imagine uncle mike's. there is no way that his can compare to theirs. there is no way that mine can compare to theirs.
to conclude, i would like to make a few statements. firstly, if you never knew any of this about me, don't comment about my story. don't tell me that you had no idea, because very few did. don't tell me that you're sorry for not noticing, because i'd be rich if i got a penny for every apology. don't tell me that i'm a sinner, don't tell me that i'm going to hell, don't tell me that i need help. i know who i am and where i am, and i'm working to become better. i am a work in progress, as we all are.
however, i would like to offer my sincerest apologies. i know who i have hurt the most in life, and i can never take back what i've done to them. i know that for those of you who knew what i was going through, or for those of you who guessed, sitting by and watching me fall apart must have been torture. i can't apologize enough. for those of you who helped to save me, i can't thank you enough. for those of you who answered the midnight texts, the desperate xanga posts, the "theoretical" questions: you helped. honestly. for those of you who picked me up for school (despite my close proximity to the high school), i hope you realized that it wasn't the transportation i appreciated. it was your willingness to be with me, if only for five minutes out of the day. i hope that those of you who gave hugs or other tokens of affection realize what a difference you made. thank you.
final note: never pass up a chance to smile at a stranger. you don't know what they plan to do when they get home.
thank you for reading. i love you for it.