cigarettes and valentines // tree bros

prologue

That day, I watched the sun set. It had been one of those days. You know the kind where  you're not sure you even exist in the world at all. Trees make me feel safe, especially after days like that. Slowly, I traced my way down the path, until I was certain nobody could see me. From my time working there, I knew all too well how little people notice. I smiled to myself sadly. My head was full of "tips" my doctor had been telling me about how to deal with situations like this.

Talk to yourself like you were talking to your best friend – I didn't tell her at the time that I'd never had a best friend. Jared, I guess, would be the closest thing. But he didn't know anything about me. I knew a lot about him, but that was only because he liked to talk and I liked to listen. That, and the fact I was never allowed to sit with him at lunch, was the basis of our friendship. I couldn't reach out to him now; I couldn't tell him I was in the park at night thinking about throwing myself from a tree. He wouldn't care. Nobody would. I hadn't even made my mind up whether or not I cared.

So, I know a lot about trees. It's kind of my whole thing. I knew it was mostly firs on the west side of the park, meaning I'd have to follow the trail to get find an adequate tree – I couldn't climb a fir, not in the dark. And it was approaching darkness fast. Mom wouldn't be worried about me. If she was home at all, she wouldn't check on me, for fear of waking me up. My hands began to shake. I tried to remember what else my therapist had told me to do.

Close your eyes, take a deep breath and take account of your surroundings – I stopped. Closed my eyes. Followed the rules – breathe in for 7 seconds, breathe out for 5. Felt the coldish, late summer breeze on my skin. Wiggled my toes in my shoes. Opened my eyes again. And I was in the same place. Alone.

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't die, not tonight. Something in the last rays of dying light told me that I had to wait out for tomorrow. I had nothing, and that was true enough. But to die not knowing if I would ever have something... wasn't that worse? Wandering now, not wanting to go home, not knowing whether I wanted to die, I saw it. A beautiful Western Hemlock – by my estimation, over 100 feet tall. One of the tallest I'd ever seen. There were so many of the same variety in this park, but this one felt like... mine. I smiled, dropped my bag, and began to climb.

I'm not athletic. Not in the slightest. But if we could just climb trees instead of other gym activities, I'd maybe stop using my anxiety as an excuse to get out of class. It was as if the carbon dioxide it omitted was intoxicating, healing me better than any prescription ever could. I had come to this park, thinking that it was fitting for me to die near a tree – now I saw that it wasn't possible. My limbs climbed, mostly without my instruction. As my energy began to short out, I looked down. The ground was untouchable, which meant nothing on the ground could touch me either. It was comforting to be so far away from everyone.

Resting by simply ceasing to climb (you can't sit in a western hemlock, the needles are far too sharp – how I had climbed up without bloodying my hands was a mystery), I could see the whole park. Or, more accurately, I would have been able to see the whole park, had it not gotten so dark. I reached into my pocket, aiming to take a picture from my vantage point, and realised I had left it in my bag. My bag, at least 10 feet below me. The loneliness borne from almost total isolation plagued me again.

I debated letting go. Although, I'd want to climb a bit higher to do that. You know, to make sure it actually worked. The park would be closed now until morning. Nobody would find me if my injuries weren't fatal. My head began to spin, my thoughts going far too fast. I had thought this decision a simple one. Jump, or fall, from the tree. Die. Easy, right? Why had I doubted it? And where had that doubt gone?

If I could feel sure in either decision, for once, it would solve every problem. Be alive, or die. It shouldn't have been that difficult. 50/50 chance I'd be happy with each. But if I was unsure, surely it was more reasonable to not kill myself, on account of it being an incredibly definite thing. What's that saying... a permanent solution to a temporary problem? I wouldn't call my problems "temporary", but dying when one is not sure of it may be a slightly foolish move. I could always rectify my mistake if I chose to remain alive. Dying was more certain.

I shook my head. Attempted to jolt myself out of my own stupidity. Go home, Evan. Get out of the tree.

I adjusted my hand to safely climb down, and felt a sudden piercing pain. I yelped, and used my other hand to soothe my palm. I then had no hands attaching me to the branch. And I began to fall. The funny thing about accidentally falling from the tree you were going to throw yourself from, is that you don't immediately appreciate the irony. I instead thrust my hand – yes, the one with the needle in – out in an attempt to halt my fall. I heard the crack just before I lost consciousness.

All I knew was that nobody was going to come to help me.