Last Friday I learned that a friend's dear ex-lover hanged himself. I got to talk to him only a few times in brief moments during college, and to be honest I'm not sure if he'd still remember me. In those encounters he always struck me as the type one would call up for drinks on a really bad day. Gone too soon or not, I can only hope that in the final few seconds of his short existence, just an inch or two from the finish line, he didn't regret jumping off that chair (or at least that's how I imagined it), not even a bit.
Suicide is such an intriguing thing; tragic but beautiful altogether. A jump, a drink, or a slit is an easy way out and thus probably labels a person a coward, but it sure takes guts to just go ahead and fucking do it.
Kudos to you. Hope they serve Red Horse wherever you are, or whatever your drink of choice is.
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