The Room I killed myself in The Fairmont Hotel In San Francisco.
This is the me in my head, without a head. In person I’m not so trim.
You should read How we Meet and How she Teased first.
This is about me committing suicide after she left me. The who how and why of it all.
It was hard when she left. For so long I had seen her every day and we had flirted so far over the line. A long story there that I will get to some day. She had told me she loved me, and then it seemed that she was gone, just like that.
The whole time we worked together she was dating and she told me she was getting married. This was just as cell phones were getting to be common, but I didn’t call her much because she was always with him. So she got married.
But on her wedding day, I went to her wedding. She was stunning! For the past 2 years we had flirted etc, but for the past 3 or 4 months it had slowed down naturally. It was hard for me but I saw it coming. I went to her wedding kind of as a way to say goodbye. To acknowledge her marriage and see it for myself.
During the wedding she never made eye contact even when she walked within brushing distance of me. She didn’t make a connection of any kind. We had been an item for 2 years by then and nothing. After she was married everyone was hugging and say congratulations etc and we went though the line to do the same and it was very perfunctory. Then after the line dissolved my wife and I were about to leave and I said I wanted to go say goodbye and I turned around and she was there!
My wife had just turned to head to the car and Anneliese was right there. She had waited for a moment to steal away to see me before we left. She saw us leaving and asked “Are you staying for Dinner?” Here eyes were glowing and she was so beautiful and I was leaving because my heart couldn’t take it anymore and I said “No we were just leaving” and she pulled me very close and pressed her face against me and said in the most conspiritual tone. “I will call you”.
It was wonder, my heart pounded and I felt alive after months of almost no contact. It was the only way we would ever be able to connect. She was moving into a new place, with a new man, new phone, new job, the only way I could contact here would be for he to call me. I was happy beyond description. I couldn’t wait to hear from her.
Then she didn’t call. Not for over a year. I sent her a couple emails, kind of a prod of sort. No reply. I got her number and said this is Wade and gave her my number. Another prod. Nothing. At first I dismissed it, she was newly wed, making a home honeymoon etc, But over the course of a year I texted her 33 times and she never returned a single text. Ever. I emailed her and she did not reply.
During this time, this absence, it was hard for me. I have other things that I deal with that are hard as well, so I need to touch on one of those things before I talk bout my suicide.
I served in the military and retired. I was in combat many times. I was wounded badly, and I killed out of duty, somthing that tour a whole In my soul, and I had some PTSD issued that I had learned to deal with. But they were nothing compared to what Anneliese put me though. She was the hardest thing that ever happened to me.
It is very hard for me still to this day to think that she flirted with me so directly and then told me at her wedding that she would call and didn’t call for a year. It is hard to believe anything other that she was fucking with me.
I could not contact her and she did not contact me. I have seen a lot of ugly things in my life. More than I can explain, all due to military. But this was by far the worst and it started to drive me crazy. I started to think she had just used me as a play thing and that I meant nothing to her at all. It drove me the brink of suicide. Well I guess it drove me to suicide.
About her ,I decided she was done with me. She had flirted in the most outrageous ways and I had done nothing about it. She was courageous and sexy and brave, and I did nothing. I decide that she had had enough of a do nothing coward and was done with me. At least that’s what I though in my mind. I though way to much. She told me of other lovers and she was very direct in those conversations. She is a direct person. And I thought that she wanted to make love to me, that she had made that clear, and that I did not do it, and I throught that because of that she was bored with me.
The reason I didn’t ever try to push even a little was because there was the though in my head that if I made love to her, that I would go to hell. Thats pretty simple to understand.
There came a time when I could not sleep, could not do anything really except wonder what the fuck was going on with me and her. I wondered if she ever cared, if I was just someone she played with or if I meant anything and why she would not call, why she said she would and didnt. It fucked with my brain and still does. Even not that we see each other I have to tell myself that she is not going to just leave me again. I know she loves me now, but for so long I was sure she just fucked with me. A year with no contact, how could I mean anything to her and she still do that to me. Id never do that to anyone. But then I dont blame her, she was making a life for herself.
Many nights I would lay in bed depressed and I don’t want to get into that except to say that my wife knew. Night after night I would struggle and she would roll over and go to sleep. I spoke of my depression or sadness, whatever you want to call it, and she simply felt it was something I had to work out and get over. Its bazaar to me to even consider her response to me. She did not care enough to even speak or try to work it out, not even when I told her I intended on committing suicide. I don’t know, it was very hard.
So I decided to kill myself. I couldn’t see Annelise and she was done with me and I didnt want to go on without her in my life.
I didn’t want to leave a mess to be cleaned up by my family, (I had had to do that in my own professional life, cleaning up suicides) so I decided to sit in the shower with the water running and the shoot in the mouth as I sat in the shower with the water running. That would make the mess less difficult to deal with, or so I though.
My wife knew I was considering suicide and she had removed all my guns so I had to go and apply for one and buy one. I had a small stool I put in the corner of the shower and I started the water and put my .45 in my mouth. But I couldn’t do it. I tried over and over. I would pull on the trigger and just before I knew it would surly go off, I would get scared and stop. I was afraid I might not kill myself, or that I would be a vegetable. I imagined it would hurt when I shot my teeth. All kinds of stupid shit. At that point the thing I feared the most was not killing myself and having to live with my head even more fucked up than it was. I sat there until the water turned cold and I turned blue shaking and shivering and I couldn’t do it. I tried over and over but couldnt get it done. Then one time I pulled on the trigger applying pressure slowly and was waiting for the sound of the shot and I was freezing and I shuddered violently once and it scared me. I thought to myself, you just damn near died right here in the shower, and I couldnt do it. Not to my kids or not to my wife. Even though my wife has challanges I wont get into, I still couldnt do that to her or my kids and make them find me and have to deal with the trama of the mess.
So I decide to go someplace else to kill myself. I tossed the gun on my bed. I did that on purpose to hurt my wife to be honest. Leaving the gun on the bed and disappearing was a way of saying Im gone. I got dresed, grabbed by wallet and I walked out to my truck and drove to the airport and I flew to San Francisco, someplace I was familiar with and where my wife was familar with as well so she could arrange to do whatever she need to do after my death, but someplace she would not have to discover me or where my kids would have to discover me. In truth I didn’t really want to die, I just didnt want to live without Anneliese.
I went down to the wharf and took a picture of the Sign on fisherman’s Wharf and I texted it to Catnip. I said: “Please call me!” and I waited. Nothing happened at all. I sat there, such a pathetic man, for 4 hours waiting for a call or a text, Nothing! So I walked the long walk up the hills to my hotel. Now that I’m much better I want to come here with Anneliese. It would be healing to do that. Anyway.
I had a very sharp knife that has served me well most of my life. It has a sharp double-edged knife with a thin sharp blade. I had never used it in anger, but I decided to kill myself with it and in fact had brought it will me for this purpose and I checked into to a hotel and I wrote this poem.
I’ll Call you Your Last Lie
On mornings when I stretch awake
Then melt back into the sheets
I sometimes let my mind wander
When I need to feel your pain.
There is only so much
That I’m willing to lose
And I am almost there
Where you left me.
Weeping behind black lenses
Your words cut even deeper
Than when you turned and walked away
And disappeared into my memories.
Long after the tears were dry
Your voice crippled me into waiting
With words meant to sooth
In the valley between life and despair
Then I took a handful of ice and stuck it under my armpit until my armpit was basically numb and stuck a knife in the artery in my armpit. The knive was very sharp and my armpit was cold, but I was still somewhat scared of the pain, and it did hurt, but I pushed the knive in about 3/4 of an inch where I had located an artery with my fingers and I cut that artery.
I had killed before (never with a knife, but in combat and up close. ) and I had seen death and blood. But I had never seen blood squirt like this did. I was standing at a mirror looking at it to make the cut and the blood came out like a fast running squirt from a hose. My armpit became a large ballon full of blook waiting to shoot out of the hole I had cut.
I was shocked at how much blood there was and at how quickly I started to get dizzy. I turned to go lay on the bed which is what I intended but I started to black out very quickly. In an amazingly quick period of time I passed out and I bled to death. I don’t remember all of this but have pieced it together. I know I was standing at a full length mirror with my arm up in the air looking at where I was putting the knife. Once I did it the blood almost burt out of me and it shocked me. This I remember. I remember standing there for just a couple of squirts then started to get dizzy and want to get to where the poem was I wrote and I tried to move to it.
What I dont remember is that I apparently blacked out and somehow fell into a large TV that crashed into and through the window as I fell. I landed on a coffee table full force breaking the TV, and the Windwo and the coffee table all with a loud crash. It must have made a hell of a noise. And I am alive now because of that.
But by a series of miracles I was saved. An ambulance had been called for a man right across the hall from me who refused to go with the medics. They were exiting his room at the exact time I passed out and as I did I fell on a glass table that crashed and shattered and made a lot of noise. The medics and hotel management were right there. They knocked on my door but I was out cold. I dont remember any of it, but they came in and got me.
I woke up in a hospital which surprised the hell out of me. It was 3 days later. I dont remember anything at all during that time. No bright lights, no darkness, no nothing. They said I had died and that I should not have made it. If the EMS had not been right there I would have died. I still have some memory issues because of it, but what the hell right. I mean if you stick a knife in your armpit there’s going to be repercussions?
I wondered what would happened because I was tied to the bed and I wondered if I would be arrested or in trouble or what. Turns out, I was “sanctioned”, which is a nice way of saying held against your will without being arrested. They use to arrest you in the past now they “sanction” you. It a whole different word. The maniacals they tie you to the bed with are the same however but no arrest record.
At first I was in a coma for 3 days. I lost a lot of blood and they didnt have blood in the ambulance so they gave me plasma so they circulated plasma and some blood whatever was left in me after the bleeding I had done, until I got to the hosptial and they gave me a transfusion and apparently I want into a coma at some point during all of that. Once I came to, I sat there basically for more 3 days while the Doctors and the shrinks talked with me. I don’t remember that much about that except that they had my suicide Poem and they asked me about it and focused on it and I didn’t really go into it ( it was covered in blood and they had it in a ziplock and I still have it in a ziplock) . What I remembered was thinking about Anneliese, and I wanted to be dead again. Not alive in a hospital bed. Kind of an odd thing is that when I was released they mailed that Poem to my house. It was unconventional as suicides go and my wife got the package the poem came in and that also complicated my life. All my fault of course.
Before I decide to kill myself I wondered if I would go to hell if I made love to Anneliese. When I was contemplating committing suicide I wondered if I would go to hell for killing myself. Eventually and I decided I didn’t care what happened because she was gone, and what was left without her? As I sat there strapped to the bed a thought came to me that said “Fuck em”. I decided that being alive and doing wherever I wanted to do, with the chance of fixing things if I messed up was better than being dead. And I decided that If I ever got a chance that this time I would make love to Anneliese. I made a lot of changes because I decided that I woud live according to my own personal beliefs instead of what others said or believed. When you get right down to it I’m a great guy and If Im not good enough then oh well.
The decision made me happy and the shrinks saw a difference in me. I decided I would take a chance and live.
Up to that point I had not given them, the docs or anyone anyting so I gave them my wife’s name and phone number and they called her and she didnt come to SF. She was very hurt and very sad which is another story. But she couldnt bring herself to come to SF. Ultimatly I left my wife, seperated, but for complex reasons Anneliese does not know that. I hide it from her for two reasons, I dont want to seem like one of those guys that says he is divorcing his wife and doesnt, and I dont know what will happen. And because it would kill me if she knew I had left her and Anneliese made it clear that she was not interested.
I had to sign an agreement to pay the hotel about $9000 to pay for damages, carpet couch, bed, table etc. and the city of San Francisco agreed to let me go and I went home.
Once I got home, my resolve to live how I wanted became harder to live, because I was still without Anneliese and I started to feel the same old thing again. I had gotten a job and was working, but I was not happy. I had not written or called or txted Anneliese, and she had not communicated with me and I decide that I was going to kill myself again but this time without the errors. Life without her simply had not appeal, and I lived in fear of bumping into her and feeling like an ass clown. I would feel humiliated seeing her thinking she had fucked with me and moved on. I didnt want to just bump into her. Then..
After I had been home for about 2 months, Anneliese called me and wanted to see me!!!! My brain felt like it would spin out of control with all of the emotions I was going through.
No explanation no conversation, nothing it was like she had never left. We just met for lunch and we started meeting again as if nothing had happened. She would say things like, “did I tell you about so and so” as if we had talked last week! But it had been over 9 months! This went on for several weeks and finally I asked her why she had not called. I could see a melancholy in her eyes and she simply said, “Sometime people make mistakes” and she paused and I didn’t say anything. Then she said “But Friends forgive each other”. That was it and we were back seeing each other again.
So how did I get over it. So far I don’t have an answer for that. I havent gotten over it. Its been 3 or 4 years or something and It still haunts me, I still measure everything against it like some sort of terminal baseline that is the pivot point of my life. I have not gotten over it. So now I’m a statistic and now I am still chasing Anneliese, and in fact I think she fucks with me on purpose some times. Not in a mean was, she just calls me when she needs me and I’m there. And she knows that I will be there. Whatever, I love her and Im going to keep loving her and caring for her until she understands what love is, or until I understand her. We have had a couple talks about it. Each of them kind of shallow. But we have talked enough that I know she does care for me, and if she was fucking with me or not then, she cares about me now.
I’ve never told her what happened. This has been several years ago now. I sometimes wonder if I should tell her. What do you think?
Sep 2 2010