on your journey home, i hope it would be in the arms of the angel

When your friend committed suicide, you start imagining the pain he had been through. What was it that was so wrong in his life, what was it that push him to the edge… What was it.. That made him believe he had no other way out. That he has nothing, nothing left in life for him worth to fighting for. That death would bring him peace.

“Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
There’s always some reason
To feel not good enough
And it’s hard at the end of the day”

You try to imagine, how hurt he was. How maybe it was not an easy choice, but he could not see any other escape route.
You try to imagine, how tired he was. How many tears he shed in silence, how many times he probably reached out for help, and how desperate he was. How… maybe he wished that things were different.

“I need some distraction, oh beautiful release
memories seep from my veins, let me be empty and weightless,
and maybe…. i’ll find some peace tonight”

You start remembering the times you were with him at the uni’s corridors. You start remembering how many times you walk passed him, not noticing anything but his usual smile and happy face, ready to put his hands in the back of your neck, just because he knows that will make you yell at him, and hat he could use a good laugh from that.

Then you start wondering where were you. Start wondering if you could’ve done something. Start wondering if a simple “hi” probably could’ve done a difference.
You know you haven’t seen him around so much. You know that little room seems somewhat unusual because he wasn’t there strolling around commenting on how big your garfield face-shaped bag is.


That was not enough to move you to try to text him. Just to say, “hey, where have you been?” Something, anything, that shows him somebody was waiting to see him around, You start wondering, again, if you could’ve done something. And again you think of that, and again and again and again.
Then you are left with regret, on how selfish you were.

“in the arms of the angel
fly away from here
from this dark cold hotel room
and the endlessness that you fear”

You are sad. You confront him in your heart, why would he forfeit his life when there are people out there struggling to survive.
You are angry. You try to tell him that he was being unwise, and even if it turns out that he skipped all the melancholy things about suicide and embrace his doings of ending his life as a way to a greater good, bigger peace or brighter blaze of glory…….. you still angry.

You feel like you don’t understand a thing, and that you are disappointed, and somewhere deep inside, you are scared. Scared to admit that this kind of things existed in life. Why, one of the person you know have just done it.
You are scared, because you know now it is real. It is not a mere case studies you read over and over and over again in your textbooks. It is not a mere story from your lecturers, trying to tell you the real picture out there. It is real and it is near.
You know now that people truly could do suicide. You know now that depression is real.

Still, it is amazing to see how people changed their point of view after his departure. How I changed mine. Turns out his death bring people to realization to something important; we, each one of us, are not immune to depression. Sure we will always have reason for not being there for the people we care about, we are busy, we have so many things to take care of, we can always visit him or her later and so on and so on and so on..
But, see, a simple act of accompanying could have done a big difference.

I heard he said this once. “I, forever, will be where it is more peaceful.”
Well, that place could be there, at his closest people’s heart, right?
Probably, at your heart.

Lost God’s masterpiece of a philosopher, and a very fine thinker yesterday. 
See you on the other side, kid. 
May you find some comfort there, that your flight would be in the arms of the angel.

*song lyrics from Angel by Sarah Mclachlan* i personally think that maybe, just maybe, it describes how someone feels before they decided to just.. leave.

Published by reylasano

she writes your stories

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