Voice of people screaming woke me up half an hour ago. Voices of two men, yelling to each other. A guy was trying to commit suicide with a pair of scissors and another guy tried to stop him. They were struggling on the concrete, at the parking lot next door.
I could hear him uttered with sobs: I am a piece of shit. I use drugs, and become permanent user. No one like me. Every body hates me. I have no body. Let me cut myself. All I want is to die. Just let me die. Fucckkkkk!!! See my life, a piece of shit. I screwed up my life. And on and on and on.
Another guy tried to convince him there are people like him. He is a great guy. And on and on and on.
A girl was sitting next to them, crying.
After calling the police, I recall someone. I recall myself. I recall my Apple. I recall my parents and sisters. I recall people who love me. I feel very lucky. Every day I learn that for some people it is/was fucking hard to grow up. Somehow, we’re all damaged in our own way, aren’t we? I know that. I think we are all somewhat screwy, each one of us. I know that.
I watched Life of Pi earlier this day. Pi’s saying struck me: “Even when God seemed to have abandoned me, he was watching. Even when he seemed indifferent to my suffering, he was watching. And when I was beyond all hope of saving, he gave me rest. Then he gave me a sign to continue my journey.”
And yes, that’s how I feel about my life. Then I am very lucky. I really am. I know some people aren’t that lucky. And that makes me sad. Don’t we all deserve an equal amount of lucky-ness, that no one deserve to call him/her self as a piece of shit? Because no body is, I think.
Ps. I called the police, talked with them on the phone and face to face. I hope they can find these people. I hope they can help that man.