Reaching out
Everyone has a little crazy in their lives. It might take the form of anything. A pet, a lover, a parent, an in-law, a neighbor, etc., etc.... Some have that really crazy co-worker who clips his or her toenails at work and eats nothing but goat-cheese. Others might have a little crazy in themselves (I do) and that can be all well and good if it's managable. Sometimes, just a lot of the sometimes it can come in the form of "crazy bitch (see definitions 5 & 6)."
I don't know what it is about me that says, "Call this person at two in the God-damn morning and tell him about how you want to drink gasoline," but something did. I'll call her "Red." Maybe the fates aligned so that Red's river of mental bullshit fell on top of me like Niagara Falls, maybe I was just being too damn nice to her. I don't know. What ever it was, Red decided that I was the person to call and unload upon.
After five years served in Uncle Sam's Misguided Children I've seen my fair share of fucked up people. Some had been to combat and come home more fucked up than a football-bat. My unit in the Corps had one of the highest suicide rates (or at least attempted suicide) in the Corps. Three close friends and co-workers I knew have tried to kill themselves. One of them I had to take to the hospital myself. Another will have, for the rest of his life, three scars encircling his neck. All of them the thickness of a extension chord. I've seen my share of fucked up people.
Middle-class angst doesn't hold a candle on some of these people. Red is your typical crazy-bitch. The whole world revolves around her and in her mind it is trying to get her every which way possible. I can't understand it; she had two parents who loved her, a decent job, good friends (I wasn't one of them I just met her through my fiance), and enough money to not starve. There was and is nothing too terribly bad in her life to justifiably kill herself. So after over two months of calling me, my fiance, several other friends and acquaintances action was required.
We 302'ed the girl. Three of us felt that while, no, she really didn't have a legitimate reason to even feel depressed, she was serious about killing herself. We contacted the proper authorities and went through the police. After about four hours of red tape and rigmarole Red was off to the psych-ward at the county hospital.
Bitch lied her way out of that.
So after months of putting up with her bullshit and dealing with it in the only manner left to us all any of us are left with is a feeling of being let down by the system and an imminent feeling of dread because we all know that she will kill herself eventually.
Fuck it.
I did all that I could for her. She's on her own.
I don't know what it is about me that says, "Call this person at two in the God-damn morning and tell him about how you want to drink gasoline," but something did. I'll call her "Red." Maybe the fates aligned so that Red's river of mental bullshit fell on top of me like Niagara Falls, maybe I was just being too damn nice to her. I don't know. What ever it was, Red decided that I was the person to call and unload upon.
After five years served in Uncle Sam's Misguided Children I've seen my fair share of fucked up people. Some had been to combat and come home more fucked up than a football-bat. My unit in the Corps had one of the highest suicide rates (or at least attempted suicide) in the Corps. Three close friends and co-workers I knew have tried to kill themselves. One of them I had to take to the hospital myself. Another will have, for the rest of his life, three scars encircling his neck. All of them the thickness of a extension chord. I've seen my share of fucked up people.
Middle-class angst doesn't hold a candle on some of these people. Red is your typical crazy-bitch. The whole world revolves around her and in her mind it is trying to get her every which way possible. I can't understand it; she had two parents who loved her, a decent job, good friends (I wasn't one of them I just met her through my fiance), and enough money to not starve. There was and is nothing too terribly bad in her life to justifiably kill herself. So after over two months of calling me, my fiance, several other friends and acquaintances action was required.
We 302'ed the girl. Three of us felt that while, no, she really didn't have a legitimate reason to even feel depressed, she was serious about killing herself. We contacted the proper authorities and went through the police. After about four hours of red tape and rigmarole Red was off to the psych-ward at the county hospital.
Bitch lied her way out of that.
So after months of putting up with her bullshit and dealing with it in the only manner left to us all any of us are left with is a feeling of being let down by the system and an imminent feeling of dread because we all know that she will kill herself eventually.
Fuck it.
I did all that I could for her. She's on her own.