A friend of my wife's killed himself two weeks ago today. i had grown to enjoy him immensely, although had not had the chance to spend time with him. Foolishly, i told myself that one day we would spend 8 hours talking about music, movies, sci fi, all those topics that we touched upon in our brief twenty minute visits over the last nine years.
It boggles my mind as to why he would do such a thing. Although I detected anxiety in him, I did not see him as someone who came across as hopeless. I know that it is not always that obvious, but i just cannot fathom how he got so far that he felt this was the only way.
i had not spoken with him in months, something i feel much guilt about. With this hindsight, i wish i had invited him over more often, burned him some music, anything.
The world lost a great guy. Especially irritating when i can think of ten people i wish would kill themselves.
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