2 years ago today, I lost my oldest friend in life to suicide. For my post on FiveByFiveHundred.com, I decided to look at these two years and how it's affected me. There's not much else to write about that isn't covered elsewhere, but it just serves to remind us that is life is precious, and no one's life "isn't worth it." Even two years later, Mike's death has a profound affect on me every day. Sure, I handle it better now — but suicide never goes away. It never gets better. So think before you act, whether you're experiencing your own feelings of self-harm, or whether your actions might have that affect on someone else. I miss you, Mike.
(If you're looking for some more not-so-light reading, I wrote a [fairly abstract and Beckett-esque] play about this as well. It premiered in Hollywood in April of 2010 — too late, of course, for Mike to have ever seen it. But theatre was his only real salvation in life, so maybe somehow, I can keep him alive on the stage, because I think that's how he would have liked it.)