Before the tragedy – the loss of a good friend well before his time – I had gotten complacent vis-a-vis my depression. I figured “well, I’m still breathing – it could be worse and so long as it isn’t, I can deal.” But the problem is, depression can work incrementally, bringing you down into the abyss one step at a time. I had gotten to the point where suicide was a viable option and I hadn’t even seen anything wrong with it, really. I just… felt like shit and every day felt worse than the one before it. I didn’t care about anything. It’s not that I didn’t want to care, it’s that I actually *couldn’t*
But when I lost my friend, something clicked. I realized I actually cared about something – the people in my life. And at the wake/funeral, I realized that if I were to die, maybe people would grieve for me too and having felt that pain – the first thing I truly felt in ages – I did not want to inflict it on anyone else, especially not the people I cared about.