I’ve seen the amazing things social media can do. It connects, informs, motivates, and infuriates. I’ve been part of some pretty incredible experiences thanks to the miracle of technology. How many people can say they’ve saved a life because of Facebook? Probably not many, but I can.
The details of that experience are too sensitive to share, but that and other experiences keep bringing me back onto this electronic highway of human experience. My goal online? I want to save another life.
A story states there was once a man who was so down on life that he wanted his to end. Past abuses, a life of uncertainty, and failed dreams all led him to a dark place from which he could not escape. He decided he only had one option, and that was to give up. The emotional pain, the haunting memories, the recurring failures all showered down on his burdened shoulders.
He wrote a note and placed it on his nightstand. Opening his cabinet, he carefully removed a pistol and loaded a single bullet in the chamber. Lying down on his mattress he nervously and hopelessly pressed the barrel against his temple and pulled the trigger. As the hot smoke rose to the ceiling, his warm blood flowed onto the ground. Suicide had claimed yet another victim.
Tales of suicide are all around us. We hear of bullied teenagers who’ve had enough. We see parents mourning the loss of their children. Fathers, who are unemployed and over-stressed take the lives of their families, and then seal the act by taking their own. We hear of women who never obtained the body image they want, men who never got the girl, and elderly who succumb to loneliness and prefer death. Yes, we hear all of these stories of suicide and the pain of those that remain and remember, but what of those who’ve gone? If they could speak to us, what would they say? Did their act of helplessness provide the relief they were so desperately seeking? Are they now better off?
I think I have the answer, at least I know the answer that one man gave.
So, what of this lifeless body that now lay cold on the bed? It turns out he had a roommate who was due home in just minutes. Little did the roommate know he would be coming home to a bloody scene of horror that, when witnessed, would be etched in his memory so vividly that even fifteen years could not erase. He approached the door to his apartment, placed his key in the lock, and opened the door. Immediately he was thrown back outside by some force that no eye could see, and he landed painfully on the pavement. He heard the unearthly, pain-riddled screams of “GET OUT. I DON’T WANT YOU TO SEE THIS”. Though the traumatized voice was in some way different and disturbing, he recognized it instantly. It was the true, living, and very real voice of his roommate.
To be continued…