"In 1978, my friend Malcolm jumped to his death from a seventh floor balcony because he suffered from alcoholism and depression. I got drunk the night I heard about it because the thought of him doing that to himself depressed me. It never occurred to me that I had the same problems he did. Low self- esteem. Insecurity. Envy. Jealousy. Rage. Depression. I was a textbook example of a suicide waiting to happen. It would be many years before I made my attempt." - excerpt from Square Peg In A Round Hole.
1997 seems like such a long time ago. It was the year I stopped drinking. It was a good year in some ways but it was filled with moments that were not always good.
During one of those moments I tried to take my life. I was obviously unsuccessful. I believe it was because of the intervention of a power greater than I.
I've been reading in the news about the sudden passing of one of the world's funniest comics and so I am reminded that I don't have to be alone to be depressed. I don't have to be on skid row to be an addict and I don't have to die in order to be famous. I don't know if that makes as much sense to you as it does to me. Sometimes I wonder if any of this makes any sense and I suppose that attempting to make it somehow meaningful is what we all do. Some of us use comedy. Some of us act. Some of us play music. Some of us dance. Some of us write.
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