Sam Paul - Why I Committed Suicide

It was hard for me to see Jenifer in intensive care; she’s very broken and can only receive visitors for a couple of minutes every few hours. She was glad to see me there, I think, but she was really out of it and her mother was hovering close by, watching me and my mom as we tried to get some sort of positive response from Jenifer. She was lying there in a bed that seemed to envelope her emaciated body, mouth lodged open with a giant pale blue breathing tube stuffed down her throat, and there were millions of machines that connected to millions of needles that connected to Jenifer’s body in various places. Only a dull spark in her eyes and a couple squeezes of her hand gave any indication she was alive, the rest was monitored by the erratic pattern of the machines. Oh baby, I want to see you smile, I want to see you sit up and pull this shit out of you, light up a Marlboro and tell the nurse to kiss your ass.

Then like a fucking tourist I was abruptly ushered into the waiting room by the nurses. I could see by the look on my mom’s face that she finally realized how fucked up the situation really was after she read Jen’s chart while I was trying to communicate. I guess maybe my parents thought that since I was relatively okay, Jenifer would be in a similar state.

I realize Jenifer’s mom may be more important to her right now since she’s been keeping a vigil and has been there to know what’s happened while I’ve been stuck in Dallas the past few days. Mrs. Lansing has been the only person keeping me updated about what’s been going on in the duration and I thought seeing me might make Jenifer cheer up a little, but she’s so broken that I couldn’t tell if my presence had any effect at all. After our minutes of visitation were up we settled back into the intensive care waiting room with a few other families going through various stages of their own terrible tragedies, hollow sleepless eyes glancing back and forth evaluating each other. There was some uncomfortable brief polite contact, nobody wanting to ask each other who or why they were there, fearing to hear the worst as if the bad karma might spread to their own loved ones.

There’s so much emotion pouring from that room, overloading my senses, every time somebody bumps by me I feel the pain from their experience in my head. This has taken a lot out of me and I’m much weaker than I thought, my defenses are down and people’s thoughts keep sneaking in uninvited.

Talking to her parents about how the accident happened was another event that can go on my worst-experiences-of-all-time list. Two in one week, I’m going for a record. It was having to thoroughly explain to her obsessive-compulsive father again and again about all the ways I tried to prevent the car from going off the bridge that really did me in. Did I do this? Did I do that? Over and over, back and forth. I COULDN’T FUCKING DO ANYTHING, not one fucking thing, except bring your daughter back to live in this permanent nightmare.

Jenifer, I need to see you privately so we can talk. You are broken but I need you. I need your touch, your help. I need to tell you how sorry I am, I need to beg you for forgiveness. How can I be strong for you through this? I’m so sorry.

I’m in my old room. It’s seems so lifeless to me now and I can’t believe I grew up here. I’m staring out the same dirty window I used to have to get a chair to see out of, looking through the darkness at the park and trees behind my parents’ house.

Everyone is walking around and talking to me like I’m just back from college visiting for the holidays.

Well I’m not. My life, wife, is lying in a fucking hospital in bed and I’m 150 miles away surrounded by creepy reminders of another life.

My parents didn’t have the time to drive me out to Tyler to visit so I took the Greyhound bus out there. I feel like shit, my arm’s broken and my ribs are sore but on the bright side I probably won’t lose any teeth. Jenifer looked a little better than the last time I saw her and I brought her some pictures to tape to the metal posts around her bed and her snoopy dog to help make her room seem a little more cheery.

It’s so hard to see her like this. Her touch is still electric to me, but now it makes me want to cry because when we touch, I can feel a part of every worry and thought she has. I’m still only allowed in there to visit for 15 minutes every few hours, never alone, and it sucks because I can sense she needs me in there with her dammit. The rest of my time is spent in the awful intensive care waiting room talking to her parents who can’t accuse me and can’t help but blame me. I can see it in their eyes, transposed or not.

I’m going to have to bring some pot next time, anything to numb myself. I can’t keep going outside and blubbering.

My brain’s on fire and I still can’t sleep. What is happening to me? I feel so fucked up, so alone and small. I sit in my room and try to read or distract myself but there is nothing I can do. Even writing this fucking thing sucks, it’s always sucked. My partner is missing and I need her. If she wasn’t still alive I could at least be thinking of interesting ways to kill myself, that would be nice and easy. If I feel this bad and she’s alive, how would I feel if she had died? God, would it have been better? Painless?

We’re going to lose the nice apartment that we worked so hard to get and it feels like I’m severing one more link with her to have to do that. Does that make sense? I was so happy with our infinite possibilities there. Yesterday I went back to our apartment for the first time with my sister and too many of our friends came by to say how sorry they were. Jen and I were a fucking team and everyone on town knew us as a unit. After they all left I just broke down shaking and crying in front of my sister. I couldn’t stop because I felt so bad, the never-ending torrent of hurt just builds up too much and has to come out. My sister looked scared because she had never seen me like that and she didn’t really know how to react but she offered comforting words and held me for a while until I could get a grip on reality again. It was just too much seeing our friends and being around all of our stuff.

Took the bus out to Tyler again. The ride sucked. The visitation room sucked but seeing Jenifer was good. I stayed overnight this time and slept in the non-offensive chairs, but I still haven’t had the chance to visit with Jenifer alone yet. Her mom hangs around like a protective…well…mom, which is good for Jenifer, but it keeps reminding me that nobody in either of our families really knew how close we were.

Except for seeing Jenifer everything about this hospital is for shit. Everything except her is for shit. No texture, no color, no emotion except sadness. If I don’tfind distraction soon I’m going to seriously lose it.

I went to Irving Mall with my sister and got arrested for shoplifting a watch from Dillard’s that I didn’t even want. I guess I was trying to get caught. We were just walking through the store from the parking lot and it ended up in my pocket. I really don’t care anymore. I was more embarrassed they also held my sister while waiting for the cops. Shit, let her at least shop or something, she didn’t do anything.

My parents came and picked me up from the jail after my sister drove home alone in my bug. They were so mad that they gave me the silent treatment, which fits right in with how they treat me and my life now anyway, so big fucking deal right? It was actually kind of nice.