“I called a suicide hotline, doubting they could say anything to make me change my mind. But I remember how good it felt to share my problems with someone else, a complete stranger. It’s a lot easier to talk to strangers than the people who are close to you. I ended up just telling the woman, Sheryl, about myself, my life. I talked into the early hours of the morning and she was eager to listen. By the end of our conversation I had decided I was not going to go through with it. I thanked her and hung up before she could say anything else. I realized that as long as there were kind strangers out there who would be willing to listen, I would be all right.”
“And that’s my story, the reason why I wanted to talk to you so badly even though we’ve never met before,” I said.
“Wow,” said the frazzled high school kid I had stopped on the street, “That’s an amazing story… but I’m late for class. We have a huge term paper due today and if I don’t turn it in on time I’m going to flunk. I have to go.”
“Alright,” I said, and watched him hurry off down the sidewalk.
This it what I do every day; just walk around the city looking for people who’ll listen. I don’t have a job; I don’t need to work. My parents left me plenty of money. Of course I’d give it all back just to see them again.
Full story available in Midnight Diner.