I got your address from him, I came round to see if you’re OK, and I find you... I find you...
“... preparing to kill myself?I ask.
He rubbed his hand across his face, and I saw that he was very close to crying.
Look, I know you’re a very private person, and that’s fine, but we’re pals, you know?
You can talk to me about stuff. Don’t bottle things up.
“Why not?” I asked.
How can telling someone how bad you’re feeling make it better? It’s not like they can fix it, can they?
“They probably can’t fix everything, Eleanor, no,” he said, “but talking can help.
Other people have problems too, you know. They understand what it feels like to be unhappy.
A problem shared and all that...
I don’t think anyone on earth would understand what it feels like to be me,” I said.
That’s just a fact. I don’t think anyone else has lived through precisely the set of circumstances I’ve lived through.
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