My boyfriend at the time and I were in a long distance relationship. We had made plans for him to fly from Europe to California to come see me, but he ended up having to cancel on me for some reason, I don't remember why.
He *spiraled*. He got drunk, called me, and told me that he was going to k**l himself for being a terrible boyfriend and wanted to hear from me one last time. He was apparently lying in the middle of an empty road, waiting for a car to hit him. I begged him to get up and just go home, but he hung up, and stopped answering his phone.
I spent the next day and a half grieving, thinking he was dead. That hadn't been his first s*****e attempt, and he was almost successful at least once, so I thought that time was *it*. He eventually called me back to let me know I had succeeded in talking him out of it, but that day and a half before then was one of the worst experiences of my life. That's how I spent Valentine's Day when I was 21.
He *spiraled*. He got drunk, called me, and told me that he was going to k**l himself for being a terrible boyfriend and wanted to hear from me one last time. He was apparently lying in the middle of an empty road, waiting for a car to hit him. I begged him to get up and just go home, but he hung up, and stopped answering his phone.
I spent the next day and a half grieving, thinking he was dead. That hadn't been his first s*****e attempt, and he was almost successful at least once, so I thought that time was *it*. He eventually called me back to let me know I had succeeded in talking him out of it, but that day and a half before then was one of the worst experiences of my life. That's how I spent Valentine's Day when I was 21.
