Was just reminded of how in late 2019/ early 2020 I was talking someone out of suicide multiple times while personally being in a very stressful, very scary time of my life, cried a lot, had NO social skills/awareness because I had just escaped over a decade of bullying, was a 4-5 on the suicide scale myself and was isolating myself from my family more because Christmas drew closer and I always get super aware of my own loneliness during that time, then during a Christmas party while everyone around me was drinking and having fun I had to excuse myself to talk that person out of suicide again and also talk them and their (requited) crush into going on a date because BOTH feared that their trauma would destroy the other one so they thought about not trying it.
So I sat there, loneliest in the whole crowd, feeling like the loneliest person in the world if not even the whole universe, not enjoying the one evening I was supposed to have fun with others, saving a life and sparing two people from making a very obvious mistake (because afaik they are still together to this day) — and then two years later they dropped me during a fight because they refused to even listen to what I had to say and try to understand where I am coming from. I saved the life of one of them and they dropped me the second it wasn’t all joy and whimsy anymore.
I don’t regret doing what I did and I never will. It’s just… ironic, I guess. And sometimes I dwell on it when the past comes knocking on my door and I‘m not fast enough to slam the door shut.
