Monologue: Breaking Down

I met you exactly 3 months after I tried to kill myself. I met you at a party... Someone blackmailed me into going.
And I was not a fan of you either.
Don't get me wrong, it wasn't anything personal. I didn't like anyone. Not you, not my family, not my.. "friends"... not even myself.
And in fact, it was a burden talking to you. Every word that came out of your mouth bugged me. You just seemed so.. happy...
I mean, what the fuck? How can a person be that happy all the time? You're hiding something, you have to be.
I think I was jealous. Why should you be happy, and not me? Who gave you that God damn right?
... And one day I finally understood why.
I don't exactly remember why I agreed to meet up with you that night, but I did. And you put on your same happy face, made small talk.... I hated it. We went to a sushi place downtown, and I was just waiting for my chance to end it. I ate, we talked, I tried to leave, and you wanted to walk me to my car.. some nerve. Well, my car doesn't start, and triple A would take 2 hours to be out there. So, you stayed, we talked... and talked... and talked, until I was so fed up, I needed an answer,
"Why are you so fucking happy all of the time? You're fake and I can't handle it".
And you said back "Because I am alive. I want to be the same person for someone else, that saved my life"
I was stunned to say the least, and my whole demeanor changed... sort of..
"What the fuck do you mean by that?" I said.

So you tell me your story about when you put a gun in your mouth a few years back. You felt like the world abondoned you. No one cared about you, you didn't care about anyone. You didn't even care about yourself. You started doing risky things, walking in the bad part of town, took up smoking... won a game of Russian roulette... but no matter how much you tried, you just, could. not. die. So you decided to do it yourself. Skipped work, and put a gun in your mouth to blow your brains out. But you didn't. Because just as you were about to pull the trigger, your coworker called you to make sure you were alright... To make sure you were okay, and you broke. You cried. You told him everything. And as uncomfortable and shocked as I'm sure he was, he stayed on the phone with you. He stayed on the phone for hours, didn't say a lot, but just listened... cared. That was the day you realized you weren't alone. The day you got help. The first day you opened up. The first day on a long road... but a rewarding one.
And from that day, once you recovered, you decided you were going to be that person for somebody else. What you told me sent shivers down my spine and my disposition towards you changed.
I related so much to the feelings you described, right down to the feeling of abandonment that prompted my own suicide attempt.
That was also the day I opened up, I broke down, I sobbed, and you gave me hope that someone else actually gave a damn. A genuine person who actually cares. Something I had long since ceased to believe in.
And that prompted my own recovery. You inspired me to seek help. And I'm not there yet. I still have dark thoughts, I'm still unhappy, things are still bad. There are days I don't want to do anything, I don't want any treatment, and I want things to end. But they're happening less and less and there are some days, I think I'm actually happy. And that's more than anyone has ever done for me before. You gave me a chance to get through this... Something that I never realized was possible... You helped me more than I think you realize. And you should know... you might not be able to save the world with compassion. But you saved mine.