I wrote this for another board that Im a member of. It took me a while to type it, and I think it's a serious topic, so I thought I'd cross-forum-post it in jdorama.
It's PG-13, meaning there's some language, but since you have to be at least 13 to get on a board it should be ok. If you're offended by potty mouth, then please hit the 'back' button icon. So here's how I posted it on the other board (funny, it's a car forum...if anyone recognizes me, please be discrete about my identity...thanks).
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this is my rebuttle to the guys that want to take their lives as of late. it's
long, it's serious, but i tried to make it not-so-dry for an easier read. and yes, i was a dumb cock of a freshman. no cliff's. read it if you care (how rhetorical).
story (no names for persons or university, i dont need leaks):
my freshman year at tech, i was assigned to a roommate who was an engineering major. smart fella. i think he was 7th or 8th in his senior class. hated his mother, for she left him, his dad, and
4 OR 5 OF HIS SIBLINGS ranging from 3-15 yrs old. i just remember 2 of his siblings being very young. his dad wasnt exactly on a 6 figure salary, i knew this from his student loans and how they packed all those kids in a rather old, 4 dr sedan. sounds bad? yeah i had sympathy. if any of you have ever gone through the 1st year (or any year for that matter) of an engineering program at tech, you'll know that it's pretty rigorous. no fucking around, or else you'll be left in the toilet like that last turd that couldnt make it with the flush.
i just remember in the beginning of that fall, in the middle of the night all i'd hear was typing, aol instant message beeps, and icq sounds. holy crap it was annoying. studying? shit, smartypants was blowin' as much shit off as i was(hey, i went to my classes, except for my 830am ones *freshman scheduling mistake*...eventhough i probably didnt pay attention of the ones i
DID go to).
fast forward a few weeks...he made some friends(yay!), and landed himself a gf. a cute one at that. super sweet gal. yeah, i admit, i thought about plowing her snow. i was 18, gimme a break...hmm, im 24 now and i guess i still think about plowing snow...shit, i better be.
fast forward another few weeks or so. he becomes dark. silent. no more smilies, just angry, angry, keyboard typing. lotsa heavy breathing. no, he wasnt spanking...come to think of it, he probably did that in the shower b/c i never caught him, unlike all my other future roommates. so anyways i asked him, "what's up, bro?" his response, "im failing my classes.....me and blahblahblah broke-up". i replied, "ahh man, that sucks. who cares though, tons of other ladies in this big ass university". no response.
fast forward a few hours. im on the top bunk, and in the middle of the night i wake up to sobbing and thick, tense, air (not farts).
i ask him what's up. he's furious. he's become hateful to ALL females. his mother leaves him, his girl leaves him. ahh, shitty infatuation over a gal. naive freshman boys(you need a few or a dozen under your belt by the time you get to college, or it's heartbreak city, baby). i basically replay my convo of 6 hours earlier, reassuring him that girls lick nutsacks for a cup of warm beast lite up in our school, let alone our co-ed dorm.
for the next few days, he seems quite normal(to me, at least), but a tad bit more quiet.
so one night, after my homies in the hall go back to their rooms after a heavy night of drinking and watching "movies for guys who like movies" (woot, van damme and bloodsport!), im laying on the top bunk swingin my left leg, hanging my left asscheek off the bed, trying relentlessly to put my foot down just so i can stop the ceiling from spinning when all of a sudden i hear him mutter "do you ever wonder why we're here? i mean, what's our purpose?" i respond, "eh?" then my mind's thinking "stop...the...spinning...hey...chicks!...short cotton gym shorts, when am i gonna have my first two chicks-at-once action? aww man, i just went through 4 yrs of HS, why 4 more years of institution?...and why, why did i drink drink drink and forget to get some water before goin to bed...."
my drunken thoughts were interrupted by another muttering..."do you ever think about killing people?"
i nearly threw-up on myself when he said that...i guess the element of surprise and the alcohol combo, my body just couldnt handle it, or maybe it wasnt even his wicked question that regurged the hot acidic breath mint. i tried to gather whatever thoughts i had in mind and came up with the best response i could. "naw bro."
he goes on..."see, one way, you could just slice someone's throat while they are sleeping."
soberness is
TRYING to hit me like a ton of bricks, but from this point the conversation's become so serious i cant remember if i was sober or not...hopefully you know what i mean.
i say, "why? what's up man?"
his response, "im not gonna do anything, im not seriously thinking about it or anything..."
i remember for the rest of that night i tried my hardest to stay awake. most likely i passed out within 3 minutes.
the wkend comes up. i've noticed that my roommate's been gone all day...all night. next morning the RA comes knocking on my door. "hey, he went back home for a while".
cool. maybe that's what he needs. then rumors start flying around the hall saying that my roommate went to the top of a dorm and tried to take the Nestle plunge of death. shit.
beers and chicks have already taken my mind off of studying for my short time at this university, now this? seriously, i didnt know what to think.
he comes back a week or so later with his dad, and his gang of siblings. he says, 'hey man, it was cool being your roommate. i think im gonna take some time off from school and get some stuff straight." i respond, "hey bro, do whatcha gotta do. and good luck." of course within that conversation i tried to throw in my senseless words of wisdom to him.
at this point, i figured it was a happy ending. or perhaps a bright new beginning. however you want to see it. he falls down, goes under, but comes back up and seems to be on top of things. wrong.
a few weeks roll by, and im REALLY, REALLY, enjoying the fact that i have the room all to myself for the last month and a half of the semester(before tech replaced their old bunks, it was possible to take the top bunk off, get extra supports and form two twin beds which i placed adjacent to each other...aww yeah, pimp set-up for the ladies).
i come back to my room after a class (dammit, i told you, i go to classes. just not the 8:30s), when one of my homies tells me that the RA wants to see me in his room.
shit, he wants to yell at me for skateboarding in the halls again...or maybe the girls' RA told him that i keep using the chicks' bathroom b/c im too lazy to walk over to the guys' hall when im over there. i've crapped b/w two chicks a couple of times, never will i again.
i knock on my RA's door...it opens, and standing there are 2 cops. i forgot if they were city or campus police. i think they were the former.
now i'm flippin' like a paranoid stoner. "fuck, im 18...got cases of beers in my closet, and some chillin in the fridge." i was a broke college student so i didnt have a bag on me. *phew*...kinda.
my silly mind was off by a LONG shot...they start questioning me about my roommate. what was he like. what was my relationship with him (relationship?). when was the last time i saw him (shit, when he moved out, derrr...but keep reading though). had he changed in anyway that i could notice while he was living with me. they say thanks, and leave.
i waltz back into my room, and my RA comes in (my door's usually open, blasting 311 and Marley...i actually got yelled for this also, but not this time). the RA goes, "hey man, he came back yesterday. he took some girl with him to the top of our dorm, and tried to have her jump with him." WTF!!!
he goes on, "right now we dont know where he is. but if you see him, tell him i want to see him IMMEDIATELY." yeah my smartself figured at least that much.
i ask him about my roomie's first attempt at platform diving a few wks earlier, and it was confirmed. damn. 0 for 2 (not like i wanted to see it 1 for 2, no way, but damn, cut that shit out already).
so perhaps not even an hour or so later, my boy from down the hall comes haulin' ass to my room.."oh shit, oh shit, he's here...yeah we just sent him to the RA's room." apparently the cops never left the grounds b/c by the time the crowd was forming around the RA's door, the cops were there in a jiffy. i didnt see if they arrested his ass, but they took him away.
**funny thing is, the hippies were always pullin' tubes down the hallway, and you could ALWAYS smell skunk and northern lights throughout our hall (that's marijuana, for you str8 edge folk). cops paid no mind to this matter today(ha! just for TODAY, anyways!).
so the RA comes over for another chitchat after the fiasco. tells me that the 'campus psychiatrist' wants to talk to me. im thinking, 'aight, so i guess he wants to ask me questions about the roomie". wait, poopoo thinking. silly me fooled my dumbself. he wanted me for a mind massage...me?!
i walk into this GIGANTIC freakin' office. kinda looks like the room where they did the walk-through practice in The Program, or School Ties, I forget which movie it was. anyways, i dunno why but the room made me want to play wiffle ball. there was a marble top desk, oriental rugs, oak or whatever's nice looking finished furniture everywhere. these furnitures even had those gold plated thumbtack looking things holding down the cushions.
and wow, this guy looked like a psychiatrist, all right. (no offense, no offense). he was probably in his early forties, large, carried a spare tire for a monster truck around his waist, thinning hair...and wore glasses that were too small for his sweaty head. brown slacks, and i believe it was a cardigan underneath his tannish sportcoat. GQ at its finest. no way this fucker had a lady. my shit for brains fooled me once again. fool had a wedding band that was cutting off his ring finger's circulation.
so he gives me your
TYPICAL psychiatric questions (holy shit, what i see and hear on tv
IS true! alf...oh no, he's one scary fucker that eats kitties
). im thinking, 'man, this guy is a tool. back before i first got laid, and i was playin' the bitch among my chick friends thinkin that i was gonna score by listening to ALL their problems, i coulda been making assloads of money by doing that shit sitting in his sweat-residued chair'.
i reassure him over and over that i'm fine. yeah, the whole "i wanna play 'roomie the throat slicer'-while-people-are-sleeping" had me scared, but im the type where if shit didnt happen (me witnessing the dicing of others or me experiencing the tragedy, myself), let's not dwell on it. he finally lets me out, or gives up, whatever....great, im finally free.
so that's where it ends. i never hear from the roomie again, and when the semester ended, i heard that he was in the mental shop in the next town over, and that he might be charged with some crap for tryin' to get that chick to jump with him the second time around (she's the one that stopped it from happening as well; she got cold feet then reported his ass).
so please, if you ever think about ending yourself (a.k.a. /yourself), think about the others. think about how tough his dad had it with ALL those kids, how his oldest son had gone fufu, and how his siblings were gonna take the fact that their big brother had become unstable. fuck me, dont worry about me, i was the smallest part of that equation. i just felt for the guy. a great kid that just couldnt handle what life had dealt him.
i forgot to mention in there that one night he had told me that he had lost his faith in the mister Man above. i couldnt help him any, im not religious by any means but it's possible that someone's looking over us. just maybe. my thinking is if you can have faith in Him, then one can have faith in a rock. one can have faith in satan. one can have faith in whatever it is that one put their thoughts into. so dont be a bitch and kill yourself, because that's cheating.
you dont know what life is or why things are going the way they are? well fucking live it out. maybe you'll find the answer...maybe you'll find happiness...that's worth living for, isnt it?
a note that he wont see:
roomie, you left your brand new tube of toothpaste in my diddy box, and i used it like, 2 years later. it was great. colgate's one of my favorites, the fluoride felt funny when i'd be brushing my teeth then decide in the midst of it, to clamp down my chompers. you were and are in my thoughts, man. im sure you're doin' great now...sorry for the mornings when you were nice enough to wake me up for my 8:30s and i cursed and tried to fight you...i swear it was in my sleep! (and i dont do it now! maybe.) make that loot, become successful, and live a sweet life b/c your mind is capable of greatness. see ya..your roomie, Shmoo.
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