Day One hundred and seventy four - Fade to black

Even before December had hit its midway mar, I had already ran out of money. This had many different and immediate impacts on me : once again I had to depend on my family to keep me fed, I had to aceept the fact that by the end of the year I wouldn't even be able to pay my bills, so in January I'd be without internet and mobile phone service. I didn't even have anything I could sell - other than my books, that is, and for me that was completely out of the question. But the worst thing about being broke is that for the first time ever I wouldn't be able to afford a birthday gift for my son, and nor would I be able to afford him the smallest christmas present. 

This, above everything else, broke me the most. Yes, the Sofia story had me left me sad and with trust issues, and it had left me feeling like I was unworthy of love, but I had never felt like such a failure until that moment. 

I can look back now and I realize I could have avoided such suffering by asking for a loan from a friend - both Hugo and S. would have been able to help me a little bit, had I but asked. But I did not - and not out of pride or anything else, but just because it never even ever crossed my mind. And had it crossed my mind, I don't know that I would have had it in me in me to ask. And again, never out of pride, never about me not being able to humble myself so, but because there was a huge part of me that felt like I didn't want to disappoint me further by begging.

Me and my son have a tradition of spending his birthday together - we'd meet on his birthday, do something together, go to the movies, have a meal, and then, because it would be christmas break in school, he'd stay with me until christmas day. This time, though, things were radically different. I couldn't give him any of that, I couldn't give him anything other than my presence, other than that. And I know, I know, one can argue that those very things in and of themselves would be more than enough, but as a father, not being able to provide for my son, was heartbreaking. I had to ask his mother to send him packed with some money for his return trip, and also some food for him to eat while he stayed with me. I tried to keep how bad my situation was from my family, and I know they'd've never denied my son anything had I asked, but I was in the wrong frame of mind to even consider that.

I was drowning in a heavy liquid ocean made up of sadness, shame, disgust at myself, hopelessness, feeling like I had lost it all. I hadn't yet, there was something else I could lose, something else that I thought would be better for everyone. I decided I'd kill myself.