Blue Neighborhood

Part one

You never realize the full magnitude of something, until it's right before you. As I stand on the edge of this cliff, a stiff wind chilling me through the thin layers of my cheap suit, the rocky waters churning dozens of feet below me, all I can think is "That's a long way down."

I am not afraid though. I think part of me has known for a long time that it would come to this. I've accepted this. I'm ready for this. I purposely avoided suicide hotlines and depression help numbers, because in my own way...I want this. I don't want to be talked down. I don't want to second guess. I want freedom from myself. I want nothing.

87% of suicides are unplanned. They were prompted by a moment of anger, grief, or desperation. This isn't that. My whole life is anger, desperation, and grief. I feel peace knowing that it will all be over soon.

Once, I wasn't so broken. Once I had dreams. Once, my every waking hour didn't drain me and leave me numb to all feeling. But that was so long ago.

I met Jamie on the beach. We were very young, not much older than seven or eight. It was dusk. His father was taking him for a walk, to get him out of the house and give him something to do. My dad had brought me out to teach me how to fly a kite, but the winds weren't strong enough, and we'd begun to build a sandcastle instead. Jamie wandered over to us. His father was on the phone and wasn't paying much attention to him, other than the occasional glance in his direction. Jamie and I hit it off immediately. I was glad to have someone my age to play with, and he was too, I could tell. When you're young, making friends is easy. He made me laugh, and he was great at stacking the sandcastles higher than I was ever able to. I liked looking at him, with his brown curls that always fell into cerulean blue eyes, and his wide smile that always made me smile too. We played till long after dark, and when we finally had to go our separate ways, we made our fathers promise to bring us back again tomorrow. They agreed, both probably glad to have us entertain each other instead of demanding their attention constantly, as kids usually do.

True to their word, they brought us back to see each other the next day. In fact, they brought us back every day for the rest of the summer. During the hours that our dads stood on the beach and watched us play, they became tentative friends too, in their own dad way, even though they were very different. Jamie's dad was tall, clean cut, and always put together in nice clothes, whereas my dad was shorter, older, scruffier, and got all of our clothes at the thrift store nearby.

Jamie and I talked a lot during our beach adventures, and we learned that we had a lot of differences, but a lot in common. He lived in a big beachfront house a couple hundred yards away from where we always met up. His dad was an important guy in the office where he worked. He didn't have a mom.

I lived in a trailer next to the junkyard and car repair lot that my father ran. I didn't have a mom either.

Summer wasted away in a jumble of games of tag, and hide-and-go-seek. Kite flying, and sandcastle building, and jousting tournaments with driftwood swords.

When September arrived, we learned we'd be going to different schools. Me to the public school on the other side of town. Him to the private school in the next city over. Despite this, we promised each other that we'd still meet up every day, and continue our grand adventures.

At school, neither of us had any other friends. We didn't need them. We had each other to come back to.

Over many months, we built a fantastical imaginary world on that beach, that we looked forward to returning to every day after school and homework.

Summer came again. We'd have bonfires on the beach with our dads, wading through the ocean and poking around tide pools for jellyfish and sea urchins, while they and roasted hot dogs and marshmallows for us.